Class4J_b^h6 
Rnnk T & * 




I 

I 




ANCIENT CEDARS IN THE FO R FST OF LEBANON ' 



NFWrORK,- G. P. PUTNAM * C<> /8 6S 



THE 



LANDS OF THE SARACEN 



OK, 



PICTURES OF PALESTINE, ASIA MINOR 
SICILY, AND SPAIN 



BY 

y 

BAYARD TAYLOR. 




NEW-YORK L 
0. P. PUTNAM & CO., 10 PARK PLACE. 

LONDON : 

SAMPSON LOW, SON & CO . 
1856. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, bf 
P. PUTNAM & CO., 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District cf 
New York. 



TO 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 

This book— the chronicle of my travels through lands once occupied by the 
Saracens — naturally dedicates itself to you, who, more than any other American 
author, have revived the traditions, restored the history, and illustrated the character 
of that brilliant and heroic people. Your cordial encouragement confirmed me in my 
design of visiting the East, and making myself familiar with Oriental life ; and though 
I bring you now but imperfect returns, I can at least unite with you in admiration of a 
field so rich in romantic interest, and indulge the hope that I may one day pluck 
from it fruit instead of blossoms. In Spain, I came upon your track, and I should 
hesitate to exhibit my own gleanings where you have harvested, were it not for the 
belief that the rapid sketches I have given will but enhance, by the contrast, the 
charm of your finished picture. 

BAYARD TAYLOE. 



PREFACE. 



This volume comprises the second portion of a 
series of travels, of which the " Jotjeney to Central 
Africa." already published, is the first part. I left 
home, intending to spend a winter in Africa, and to 
return during the following summer ; but circumstan- 
ces afterwards occurred, which prolonged my wan- 
derings to nearly two years and a half, and led me to 
visit many remote an.d unexplored portions of the globe. 
To describe this journey in a single work, would 
embrace too many incongruous elements, to say nothing 
of its great length, and as it falls naturally into three 
parts, or episodes, of very distinct character, I have 
judged it best to group my experiences under three 
separate heads, merely indicating the links which 
connect them. This work includes my travels in Pales- 
tine, Syria, Asia Minor, Sicily and Spain, and will be 
followed by a third and concluding volume, containing 
my adventures in India, China, the Loo-Choo Islands, 



Yi 



PREFACE . 



and J apan. Although many of the letters, contained ir> 
this volume, describe beaten tracks of travel, I have 
always given my own individual impressions, and may 
claim for them the merit of entire sincerity. The 
journey from Aleppo to Constantinople, through the 
heart of Asia Minor, illustrates regions rarely traversed 
by tourists, and will, no doubt, be new to most of my 
readers. My aim, throughout the work, has been to 
give correct pictures of Oriental life and scenery, leav- 
ing antiquarian research and speculation to abler hands. 
The scholar, or the man of science, may complain with 
reason that I have neglected valuable opportunities for 
adding something to the stock of human knowledge : 
but it a few of the many thousands, who can only travel 
by their firesides, should find my pages answer the pur • 
pose of a series of cosmoramic views — should in them 
behold with a clearer inward eye the hills of Pales- 
tine, the sun-gilded minarets of Damascus, or the lonely 
pine-forests of Phrygia — should feel, by turns, some- 
thing of the inspiration and the indolence of the Orient 
— I shall have achieved all I designed, and more than 
I can justly hope. 



New York, October^ 1854. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 

LIFE IN A SYRIAN QUARANTINE. 

Voyage from Alexandria to Beyrout — Landing at Quarantine— The Gusrdiano—Our 
Quarters — Our Companions — Famine and Feasting — The Morning — The Holy Man of 
Timbuctoo — Sunday in Quarantine — Isiamism — "We are Registered — Love through a 
Grating — Trumpets — The Mystery Explained — Delights of Quarantine — Oriental v&- 
American Exaggeration — A Discussion of Politics — Our Release — Beyrout — Prepara- 
tions for the Pilgrimage ............ 1? 



CHAPTER II. 

THE COAST OF PALESTINE. 

The Pilgrimage Commences — The Muleteers — The Mules — The Donkey— Journey to 
Sidon— The Foot of Lebanon— Pictures— The Ruins of Tyre— A Wild Morning— The 
Tyrian Surges — Climbing the Ladder of Tyre — Panorama cf the Bay of Acre — The 
Plain of Esdraelon — Camp in a Garden — Acre — the Shore of the Bay— Haifa — Mount 
Carmel and its Monastery — A Deserted Coast — The Ruins of Csesarea — The Scenery 
of Palestine — We become Robbers — El Haram — Wrecks — the Harbor and Town of 
Jaffa . 33 

CHAPTER III. 

FROM JAFFA TO JERUSALEM. 

The Garden of Jaffa— Breakfast at a Fountain— The Plain of Sharon— The Ruined 
Mosque of Ramleh— A Judean Landscape — The Streets of Ramleh— Am I in Pales- 



viii 



CONTEXTS. 



tine ? — A Heavenly Morning — The Land of Milk and Honey— Entering the Hill- 
Country — The Pilgrim's Breakfast — The Father of Lies — A Church of the Crusaders 
—The Agriculture of the Hills— The Valley of Elah— Day-Dreams— The Wilderness 
—The Approach— We See the Holy City 43 

CHAPTER IT. 

THE DEAD SEA AXD THE R I Y E R JORDAN. 

Bargaining for a G-uard — Departure from Jerusalem — The Hill of Offence — Bethany — 
The Grotto of Lazarus— The Valley of Fire— Scenery of the Wilderness— The Hills of 
Engadii — The shore of the Dead Sea — A Bituminous Bath — G-aliop to the «*ordan — 
A watch for Robbers — The Jordan — Baptism — The Plains of Jericho — The Fountain 
of Elisha — The Mount of Temptation — Return to Jerusalem .... 60 

CHAPTER Y. 

THE CITY OF CHRIST. 

Modern JerusaS, >m — The Site of the City — Mount Zion — Mount Moriah — The Temple — 
The Valley of /shosaphat — The Olives of G-ethsemane — The Mount of Olives — Moslem 
Tradition — Pa-.orama from the Summit — The Interior of the City — The Population — 
Missions and Missionaries — Christianity in Jerusalem — Intolerance — The Jews of 
Jerusalem— The Face of Christ— The Church of the Holy Sepulchre— The Holy of 
Holies — The Sacred Localities — Visions of Christ — The Mosque of Omar — The Holy 
Man of Timbuctoo — Preparations for Departure . . .... 72 

CHAPTER TI, 

THE HILL-COUNTRY OF PALESTINE. 

Leaving Jerusalem— The Tombs of the Kings— El Bireh— The Hill-Country— First 
Yiew of Mount Hermon — The Tomb of Joseph — Ebal and G-erizim — The Gardens of 
Nablous — The Samaritans — The Sacred Book — A Scene in the Synagogue — Mentor 
and Telemachus — Ride to Samaria — The Ruins of Sebaste — Scriptural Landscapes — 
Halt at Genin — The Plain of Esdraelon— Palestine and California — The Hills of 
Nazareth — Accident — Fra Joachim — The Church of the Virgin — The Shrine of the 
Annunciation — The Holy Places . 88 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE COUNTRY OF GALILEE. 

Departure from Nazareth — A Christian Guide — Ascent of Mount Tabor— Wallachian 
Hermits— The Panorama of Tabor — Ride to Tiberias— A Bath in Genesareth— The 



CONTEXTS. 



Flowers of Galilee — The Mount of Beatitude— Magdala — Joseph's Well — Meeting 
with a Turk— The Fountain of the Salt- Works— The Upper Valley of the Jordan- 
Summer Scenery — The Rivers of Lebanon — Tell el-Kadi — An Arcadian Region — The 
Fountains of Banias * 103 



CHAPTER VIII. 

CROSSING THE ANTI-LEBANON. 

The Harmless Guard — Caesarea Philippi — The Yalley of the Druses— The Sides of Mount 
Hermon — An Alarm — Threading a Defile — Distant view of Djebel Hauaran — Another 
Alarm — Camp at Katana— We Ride into Damascus 115 



CHAPTER IX. 

PICTURES OF DAMASCUS. 

Damascus from the Anti-Lebanon — Entering the City — A Diorama of Bazaars — An 
Oriental Hotel — Our Chamber — The Bazaars — Pipes and Coffee — The Rivers of 
Damascus — Palaces of the Jews — Jewish Ladies — A Christian Gentleman — The Sacred 
Localities — Damascus Blades — The Sword of Haroun Al-Raschid — An Arrival from 
Palmyra 120 

CHAPTER X. 

THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH . — 133 

CHAPTER XI. 

A DISSERTATION ON BATHING AND BODIES . — 149 



CHAPTER XII. 

BAALBEC AND LEBANON. 

Departure from Damascus— The Fountains of the Pharpar— Pass of tne Anti-Lebanon— 
Adventure with the Druses— The Range of Lebanon— The Demon of Hasheesh 
departs— Impressions of Baalbec— The Temple of the Sun— Titanic Masonry— The 
Ruined Mosque — Camp on Lebanon — Rascality of the Guide — The Summit of Lebanon 
—The Sacred Cedars— The Christians of Lebanon— An Afternoon in Eden— Rugged 
Travel— We Reach the Coast— Return to B^yrout . ... 161 



X 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

PIPES AND COFFEE. —178 

CHAPTER XIY. 

JOURNEY TO ANTIOCH AND ALEPPO. 

Change of Plans — Routes to Baghdad — Asia Minor — We sail from Beyrout — Yachting 
on the Syrian Coast — Tartus and Latakiyeh — The Coasts of Syria — The Bay of Sue- 
diah — The Mouth of the Orontes — Landing — The Garden of Syria — Ride to Antioch. 
-—The Modern City— The Plains of the Orontes— Remains of the Greek Empire— The 
Ancient Road — The Plain of Keftin — Approach to Aleppo .... 186 



CHAPTER XY. 

LIFE IX 'ALEPPO. 

Our Entry into Aleppo — We are conducted to a House — Our Unexpected Welcome — The 
Mystery Explained — Aleppo — Its Name — Its Situation — The Trade of Aleppo — The 
Christians — The Revolt of 1S50— Present Appearance of the City — Visit to Osman 
Pasha — The Citadel — View from the Battlements — Society in Aleppo — Etiquette and 
Costume — Jewish Marriage Festivities — A Christian Marriage Procession — Ride 
around the Town — Nightingales — The Aleppo Button — A Hospital for Cats — Ferhat 
Fasha 196 

CHAPTER XYI. 

THROUGH THE SYRIAN GATES. 

An Inauspicious Departure— The Ruined Church of St. Simon— The Plain of Antioch — A 
Turcoman Encampment — Climbing Akma Dagh — The Syrian Gates — Scanderoon — An 
American Captain— Revolt of the Koords— We take a Guard— The Field of Issus— 
The Robber-Chief, Kutehuk Ali— A Deserted Town— A Land of Gardens . . 215 



CHAPTER XYII. 

ADANA AND TARSUS. 

The Black Gate — The Plain of Cilicia — A Koord Village — Missis — Cilician Scenery — 
Arrival at Ad ana — Three days in Quarantine — We receive Pratique — A Landscape — 
The Plain of Tarsus— The River Cydnus — A Vision of Cleopatra — Tarsus and its 
Environs— Tbe Duniktasli — Tbe Moon of Ramazan 226 



CONTENTS. 



xi 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE PASS OP MOUNT TAURUS. 

#e enter the Taurus — Turcomans — Forest Scenery — the Palace of Pan — Khan Mezar- 
luk — Morning among the Mountains — The Gorge of the Cydnus — The Crag of the 
Fortress — The Cilician G-ate — Deserted Forts — A Sublime Landscape — The G-orge of the 
Sihoon — The Second Gate — Camp in the Defile — Sunrise — Journey up the Sihoon — A 
Change of Scenery— A Pastoral Valley — Kolii Kushla — A Deserted Khan — A Guest iD 
Ramazan — Flowers — The Plain of Karamania— Barren Hills — The Town of Eregli— 
The Hadji again 236 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE PLAINS OP KARAMANIA. 

fcae Plains of Karamania — Afternoon Heat — A Well — Volcanic Phenomona — Kara- 
mania — A Grand Ruined Khan — Moonlight Picture — A Landscape of the Plains — 
Mirages — A Short Interview — The Village of Ismil — Third Day on the Plains — 
Approach to Konia -2oo 



CHAPTER XX. 

S CENE S IN KONIA. 

Approach to Konia — Tomb of Hazret Mevlana — Lodgings in a Khan — An American 
Luxury — A Night-Scene in Ramazan — Prayers in the Mosque — Remains of the 
Ancient City — View from the Mosque — The Interior — A Leaning Minaret — The 
Diverting History of the Muleteers 256 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE HEART OP ASIA MINOR. 

Scenery of the Hills — Ladik, the Ancient Laodicea — The Plague of Gad-Flies — Camp at 
Dgun — A Natural Warm Bath — The Gad-Flies Again — A Summer Landscape — Ak- 
Sheher— The Base of Sultan Dagh — The Fountain of Midas — A Drowsy Journey — 
The Town of Bolawadun 265 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THE FORESTS OP PHRTGIA. 

The Frontier of Phrygia— Ancient Quarries and Tombs— We Enter the Pine Forests — A 
Guard-House — Encampments of the Turcomans— Pastoral Scenery — A Summer Vil« 



CONTEXTS. 



lage— The Valley of the Tombs— Rock Sepulchres of the Phrygian Kings— The Titan's 
Camp— The Valley of Kiimbeh — A Land of Flowers — Turcoman Hospitality — The 
Exiled Effendis — The Old Turcoman — A Glimpse of Arcadia — A Landscape — Inter- 
ested Friendship — The Valley of the Pursek — Arrival at Kiutahya . • . 274 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

KIUTAHYA, AND THE RUINS OF (EZANI. 

Entrance into Kiutahya— The New Khan — An Unpleasant Discovery — Kiutahya — The 
Citadel— Panorama from the Walls — The Gorge of the Mountains — Camp in a 
Meadow — The Valley of the Rhyndacus — Chavdiir — The Ruins of OZzani — The Acro- 
polis and Temple — The Theatre and Stadium — Ride down the Valley — Camp at Daghj- 
K6i 290 

CHAPTER XXIY. 

THE If YS IAN OLTHPUS. 

Journey Down the Valley — The Plague of Grasshoppers — A Defile — The Town of Tau- 
shanlu — The Camp of Famine — We leave the Rhyndacus — The Base of Olympus — 
Primeval Forests — The Guard-House — Scenery of the Summit — Forests of Beech— 
Saw-Mills — Descent of the Mountain — The View of Olympus — Morning — The Land of 
Harvest — Aineghiol — A Showery Ride— The Plain of Brousa — The Structure of Olym- 
pus—We reach Brousa— The Tent is Furled 300 

CHAPTER XXV. 

BROUSA AND THE SEA OF MARMORA. 

The City of Brousa — Return to Civilization — Storm— The Kalputcha Hammam — A Hot 
Bath — A Foretaste of Paradise — The Streets and Bazaars of Brousa — The Mosque — 
The Tombs of the Ottoman Sultans — Disappearance of the Katurgees — We start for 
Moudania — The Sea of Marmora — Moudania — Passport Difficulties — A Greek Caique 
— Breakfast with the Fishermen — A Torrid Voyage — The Princes' Islands — Prinkipo — 
Distant View of Constantinople— We enter the Golden Horn .... 312 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE NIGHT OF PREDESTINATION. 

Constantinople in Ramazan — The Origin of the Fast— Nightly Illuminations — The Night 
Of Predestination— The Golden Horn at Night— Illumination of the Shores — The 



CONTENTS. 



Cannon of Constantinople — A Fiery Panorama — The Sultan's Caique — Close of the 
Celebration— A Turkish Mob— The Dancing Dervishes .... 324 

CHAPTER XXYII. 

THE SOLEMNITIES OP BAIRAM. 

The Appearance of the New Moon — The Festival of Bairam — The Interior of the 
Seraglio — The Pomp of the Sultan's Court — Rescind Pasha — The Sultan's Dwarf — 
Arabian Stallions — The Imperial Guard — Appearance of the Sultan — The Inner Court 
— Return of the Procession — The Sultan on his Throne — The Homage of the Pashas 
— An Oriental Picture — Kissing the Scarf— The Shekh el-Islam — The Descendant of 
the Caliphs — Bairam Commences 33£ 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE MOSQUES OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 

Sojourn at Constantinople — Semi-European Character of the City — The Mosque — Pro- 
curing a Firman — The Seraglio — The Library — The Ancient Throne-Room — Admit 
tance to St. Sophia — Magnificence of the Interior — The Marvellous Dome — The 
Mosque of Sultan Achmed — The Sulemanye — Great Conflagrations — Political Mean- 
ing of the Fires — Turkish Progress — Decay of the Ottoman Power . . . 343 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

FAREWELL TO THE ORIEN T — M A L T A . 

Embarcation — Farewell to the Orient — Leaving Constantinople — A Wreck — The Dar- 
danelles — Homeric Scenery — Smyrna Revisited — The Grecian Isles — Voyage to Malta 
—Detention — La Valetta — The Maltese — The Climate — A Boat for Sicily . . 355 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE FESTIVAL OF ST. AGATHA. 

Departure from Malta — The Speronara — Our Fellow-Passengers — The First Night on 
Board — Sicily — Scarcity of Provisions — Beating in the Calabrian Channel — The 
Fourth Morning— The Gulf of Catania — A Sicilian Landscape — The Anchorage — The 
Suspected List— The Streets of Catania— Biography of St. Agatha— The Illuminations 
—The Procession of the Veil— The Biscari Palace— The Antiquities of Catania— The 
Convent of St. Nicola ... £63 



xiv 



CONTEXTS. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE ERUPTION OF MOUNT ETNA. 

The Mountain Threatens — The Signs Increase — We Leave Catania — Gardens Among 
the Lava — Etna Labors — Aci Reale — The Groans of Etna — The Eruption — Gigantic 
Tree of Smoke — Formation of the New Crater — We Lose Sight of the Mountain — Arrival 
at Messina — Etna is Obscured — Departure 875 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

GIBRALTAR. 

Unwritten Links of Travel— Departure from Southampton— The Bay of Biscay— Cintra 
— Trafalgar — Gibraltar at Midnight— Landing— Search for a Palm-Tree — A Brilliant 
Morning— The Convexity of the Earth— Sun-Worship— The Rock ... 383 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

CADIZ AND SEVILLE. 

Voyage to Cadiz— Landing— The City— Its Streets— The Women of Cadiz— Embarka- 
tion for Seville — Scenery of the Guadalquivir — Custom House Examination — The 
Guide— The Streets of Seville— The Giralda— The Cathedral of Seville— The Alcazar- 
Moorish Architecture — Pilate's House — Morning View from the Giralda — Old Wine — 
Murillos — My Last Evening in Seville • . ... 891 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

JOURNEY IN A SPANISH DILIGENCE. 

Spanish Diligence Lines— Leaving Seville— An Unlucky Start— Alcala of the Bakers- 
Dinner at Carmona — A Dehesa — The Mayoral and his Team— Ecija — Night Journey 
— Cordova — The Cathedral-Mosque — Moorish Architecture — The Sierra Morena — A 
Rainy Journey — A Chapter of Accidents — Baylen — The Fascination of Spain — Jaen 
—The Vega of Granada 403 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA. 

Mateo Ximenez, the Younger — The Cathedral of Granada — A Monkish Miracle — Catholic 
Shrines — Military Cherubs — The Royal Chapel — The Tombs of Ferdinand and Isa- 



CONTEXTS. 



XV 



bella — Chapel of San Juan de Dios — The Albaycin — View oi the Vega — The Generalife — 
The Alhambra— Torra de la Vela — The Walls and Towers— A Visit to Old Mateo — 
The Court of the Fish-pond — The Halls of the Alhambra — Character of the Architec- 
ture — Hall of the Abencerrages— Hall of the Two Sisters — The Moorish Dynasty m 
Spain , 414 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE BRIDLE-ROADS OP ANDALUSIA. 

Change of Weather— Napoleon and his Horses— Departure from Granada— My Guide, 
Jose" Garcia — His Domestic Troubles — The Tragedy of the Umbrella — The Vow against 
Aguardiente — Crossing the Vega — The Sierra Nevada — The Baths of Alhama — " Woe 
is Me, Alhama !" — The Valley of the River Velez — Velez Malaga — The Coast Road — 
The Fisherman and his Donkey — Malaga — Summer Scenery — The Story of Don Pedro, 
without Fear and without Care— The Field of Monda— A Lonely Venta . • 4&7 



CHAPTER XXXVIP. 

THE MOUNTAINS OF RONDA. 

Orange Valleys — Climbing the Mountains — Josh's Hospitality — El Burgo — The Gate of 
the Wind — The Cliff and Cascades of Ronda — The Mountain Region — Traces of the 
Moors— Haunts of Robbers— A Stormy Ride— The Inn at Gaucin— Bad News— A 
Boyish Auxiliary — Descent from the Mountains — The Ford of the Guadiaro— Our 
Fears Relieved— The Cork Woods— Ride from San Roque to Gibraltar— Parting witli 
Jose— Travelling in Spain— Conclusion 489 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER I. 

LIFE IN A SYRIAN QUARANTINE. 

Voyage from Alexandria to Beyrout — Landing at Quarantine— The Cruardiano — Our 
Quarters— Our Companions— Famine and Feasting— The Morning— The Holy Man of 
Timbuctoo— Sunday in Quarantine — Islamism — We are Registered — Love through a 
Grating — Trumpets — The Mystery Explained — Delights of Quarantine — Oriental vs. 
American Exaggeration — A Discussion of Politics — Our Release — Beyrout — Prepara- 
tions for the Pilgrimage. 

" The mountains look on Quarantine, 
And Quarantine looks on the sea." 

Quarantine MS. 

In Quarantine, Beyrout, ) 
Saturday , April 17, 1852. f 

Everybody has heard of Quarantine, but in our favored coun- 
try there are many untravelled persons who do not precisely 
know what it is, and who no doubt wonder why it should be 
such a bugbear to travellers in the Orient. I confess I am 
still somewhat in the same predicament myself, although 
I have already been twenty-four hours in Quarantine. 
But, as a peculiarity of the place is, that one can do nothing, 
nowever good a will he has, I propose to set down my expe- 
riences each day, hoping that I and my readers may obtain 



IS 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



some insight into the nature of Quarantine, before the term of 
my probation is over. 

I left Alexandria on the afternoon of the 14th inst., in com- 
pany with Mr. Carter Harrison, a fellow-countryman, who had 
joined me in Cairo, for the tour through Palestine. We had a 
head wind and rough sea, and I remained in a torpid 
state during most of the voyage. There was rain the second 
night ; but, when the clouds cleared away yesterday morning, 
we were gladdened by the sight of Lebanon, whose summits 
glittered with streaks of snow. The lower slopes of the moun- 
tains were green with fields and forests, and Beyrout, when 
we ran up to it, seemed buried almost out of sight, in the foli- 
age of its mulberry groves. The town is built along the 
northern side of a peninsula, which projects about two miles 
from the main line of the coast, forming a road for vessels. In 
half an hour after our arrival, several large boats came along- 
side, and we were told to get our baggage in order and 
embark for Quarantine. The time necessary to purify a tra- 
veller arriving from Egypt from suspicion of the plague, is five 
days, but the days of arrival and departure are counted, so 
x that the durance amounts to but three full days. The captain 
of the Osiris mustered the passengers together, and informed 
them that each one would be obliged to pay six piastres for 
the transportation of himself and his baggage Two heavy 
lighters are now drawn up to the foot of the gangway, but as 
soon as the first box tumbles into them, the men tumble out. 
They attach the craft by cables to two smaller boats, in 
which they sit, to tow the infected loads. We are all sent 
down together, Jews, Turks, and Christians — a confused pile 
of men, women, children, and goods. A little boat from 



LANDING AT QUARANTINE. 19 

the city, in which there are representatives from the two 
hotels, hovers around us, and cards are thrown to us. The 
zealous agents wish to supply us immediately with tables, 
beds, and all other household appliances; but we decline their 
help until we arrive at the mysterious spot. At last we float 
off — two lighters full of infected, though respectable, material, 
towed by oarsmen of most scurvy appearance, but free from 
every suspicion of taint. 

The sea is still rough, the sun is hot, and a fat Jewess 
becomes sea-sick. An Italian Jew rails at the boatmen ahead, 
in the Neapolitan patois, for the distance is long, the Quaran- 
tine being on the land- side of Beyrout. We see the rows of 
little yellow houses on the cliff, and with great apparent risk 
of being swept upon the breakers, are tugged into a small cove, 
where there is a landing-place. Nobody is there to receive us ; 
the boatmen jump into the water and push the lighters against 
the stone stairs, while we unload our own baggage. A tin 
cup filled with sea-water is placed before us, and we each drop 
six piastres into it — for money, strange as it may seem, is infec 
tious. By this time, the guardianos have had notice of our 
arrival, and we go up with them to choose our habitations. 
There are several rows of one-story houses overlooking the sea, 
each containing two empty rooms, to be had for a hundred 
piastres; but a square two-story dwelling stands apart from 
them, and the whole of it may be had for thrice that sum. 
There are seven Frank prisoners, and we take it for ourselves. 
But the rooms are bare, the kitchen empty, and we learn the 
important fact, that Quarantine is durance vile, without even 
the bread and water. The guardiano says the agents of the 
hotel are at the gate, and we can order from them whatever 



20 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



we want. Certainly : but at their own price, for we are wholly 
at their mercy. However, we go down stairs, and the chief 
officer, who accompanies us, gets into a corner as we pass, and 
holds a stick before him to keep us off. He is now clean, but 
if his garments brush against ours, he is lost. The people we 
meet in the grounds step aside with great respect to let us pass, 
but if we offer them our hands, no one would dare to touch a 
finger's tip. 

Here is the gate : a double screen of wire, with an interval 
between, so that contact is impossible. There is a crowd of 
individuals outside, all anxious to execute commissions. Among 
them is the agent of the hotel, who proposes to fill our bare 
rooms with furniture, send us a servant and cook, and charge 
us the same as if we lodged with him. The bargain is closed 
at once, and he hurries off to make the arrangements. It is 
now four o'clock, and the bracing air of the headland gives a 
terrible appetite to those of us who, like me, have been sea- 
sick and fasting for forty-eight hours. But there is no food 
within the Quarantine except a patch of green wheat, and a 
well in the limestone rock. We two Americans join company 
with our room-mate, an Alexandrian of Italian parentage, who 
has come to Bey rout to be married, and make the tour of our 
territory. There is a path along the cliffs overhanging the sea, 
with glorious views of Lebanon, up to his snowy top, the pine- 
forests at his base, and the long cape whereon the city lies at 
full length, reposing beside the waves. The Mahommedans 
and Jews, in companies of ten (to save expense), are lodged 
in the smaller dwellings, where they have already aroused mil- 
lions of fleas from their state of torpid expectancy. Wo 
return, and take a survey of our companions in the pavilion : a 



FAMINE AND FEASTING. 



21 



French woman, with two ugly and peevish children (one at the 
breast), in the next room, and three French gentlemen in the 
other — a merchant, a young man with hair of extraordinary 
length, and a jilateur, or silk-manufacturer, middle-aged and 
cynical. The first is a gentleman in every sense of the word, 
the latter endurable, but the young Absalom is my aversion. 
I am subject to involuntary likings and dislikings, for which I 
can give no reason, and though the man may be in every way 
amiable, his presence is very distasteful to me. 

We take a pipe of consolation, but it only whets our appe- 
tites. We give up our promenade, for exercise is still worse ; 
and at last the sun goes down, and yet no sign of dinner. Our 
pavilion becomes a Tower of Famine, and the Italian recites 
Dante. Finally a strange face appears at the door. By Api- 
cius ! it is a servant from the hotel, with iron bedsteads, camp- 
tables, and some large chests, which breathe an odor of the 
Commissary Department. We go stealthily down to the 
kitchen, and watch the unpacking. Our dinner is there, sure 
enough, but alas ! it is not yet cooked. Patience is no more ; 
my companion manages to filch a raw onion and a crust of 
bread, which we share, and roll under our tongues as a sweet 
morsel, and it gives us strength for another hour. The Greek 
dragoman and cook, who are sent into Quarantine for our sakes, 
take compassion on us ; the fires are kindled in the cold 
furnaces ; savory steams creep up the stairs ; the preparations 
increase, and finally climax in the rapturous announcement : 
" Messieurs, dinner is ready. " The soup is liquified bliss ; the 
cotelettes d'agneaw are cotelettes de bonheur ; and as for that broad 
dish of Syrian larks — Heaven forgive us the regret, that more 
songs had not been silenced for our sake ! The meal is all 



22 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



nectar and ambrosia, and now, filled and contented, we subside 
into sleep on comfortable couches. So closes the first day of 
our incarceration. 

This morning dawned clear and beautiful. Lebanon, except 
his snowy crest, was wrapped in the early shadows, but the 
Mediterranean gleamed like a shield of sapphire, and Beyrout, 
sculptured against the background of its mulberry groves, was 
glorified beyond all other cities. The turf around our pavilion 
fairly blazed with the splendor of the yellow daisies and crim- 
son poppies that stud it. I was satisfied with what I saw, and 
felt no wish to leave Quarantine to-day. Our Italian friend, 
however, is more impatient. His betrothed came early to see 
him, and we were edified by the great alacrity with which he 
hastened to the grate, to renew his vows at two yards' distance 
from her. In the meantime, I went down to the Turkish 
houses, to cultivate the acquaintance of a singular character I 
met on board the steamer. He is a negro of six feet four, 
dressed in a long scarlet robe. His name is Mahommed 
Senoosee, and he is a fakeer, or holy man, from Timbuctoo. 
He has been two years absent from home, on a pilgrimage to 
Mecca and Medina, and is now on his way to Jerusalem and 
Damascus. He has travelled extensively in all parts of Cen- 
tral Africa,- from Dar-Fur to Ashantee, and professes to be on 
good terms with the Sultans of Houssa and Bornou. He has 
even been in the great kingdom of Waday, which has never 
been explored by Europeans, and as far south as Iola, the capi- 
tal of Adamowa. Of the correctness of his narrations I have 
not the least doubt, as they correspond geographically with all 
that we know of the interior of Africa. In answer to my 
question whether a European might safely make the same tour, 



SUNDAY IN QUARANTINE. 



23 



he replied that there would be no difficulty, provided he was 
accompanied by a native, and he offered to take me even to 
Timbuctoo, if I would return with him. He was very curious 
to obtain information about America, and made notes of all 
that I told him, in the quaint character used by the Mughreb- 
bins, or Arabs of the West, which has considerable resem- 
blance to the ancient Cufic. He wishes to join company with 
me for the journey to Jerusalem, and perhaps I shall accept 
him. 

Simday, April 18. 

As Quarantine is a sort of limbo, without the pale of civi- 
lized society, we have no church service to-day. We have 
done the best we could, however, in sending one of the outside 
dragomen to purchase a Bible, in which we succeeded. He 
brought us a very handsome copy, printed by the American 
Bible Society in New York. I tried vainly in Cairo and Alex- 
andria to find a missionary who would supply my heathenish 
destitution of the Sacred Writings; for I had reached the East 
through Austria, where they are prohibited, and to travel 
through Palestine without them, would be like sailing without 
pilot or compass. It gives a most impressive reality to Solo- 
mon's " house of the forest of Lebanon," when you can look up 
from the page to those very forests and those grand mountains, 
" excellent with the cedars.' 7 Seeing the holy man of Timbuc- 
too praying with his face towards Mecca, I went down to him, 
and we conversed for a long time on religious matters. He is 
tolerably well informed, having read the Books of Moses and 
the Psalms of David, but, like all Mahommedans, his ideas of 
religion consist mainly of forms, and its reward is a sensual 
paradise. The more intelligent of the Moslems give a spiritual 



24 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



interpretation to the nature of the Heaven promised by the 
Prophet, and I have heard several openly confess their disbe- 
lief in the seventy houries and the palaces of pearl and emerald. 
Shekh Mahommed Senoosee scarcely ever utters a sentence in 
which is not the word "Allah," and " La illah iP Allah "is 
repeated at least every five minutes. Those of his class consi- 
der that there is a peculiar merit in the repetition of the names 
and attributes of Grocl. They utterly reject the doctrine of the 
Trinity, which they believe implies a sort of partnership, or 
God-firm (to use their own words), and declare that all who 
accept it are hopelessly damned. To deny Mahomet's prophet- 
ship would excile a violent antagonism, and I content myself 
with making them acknowledge tnat God is greater than all 
Prophets or Apostles, and that there is but one God for all the 
human race. I have never yet encountered that bitter spirit 
of bigotry which is so frequently ascribed to them ; but on the 
contrary, fully as great a tolerance as they would find exhibited 
towards them by most of the Christian sects. 

This morning a paper was sent to us, on which we were 
requested to write our names, ages, professions, and places of 
nativity. We conjectured that we were subjected to the sus- 
picion of political as well as physical taint, but happily this was 
not the case. I registered myself as a voyagewr, the French as 
negocians, and when it came to the woman's turn, Absalom, 
who is a partisan of female progress, wished to give her the 
same profession as her husband — a machinist. But she 
declared that her only profession was that of a " married 
woman/' and she was so inscribed. Her peevish boy rejoiced 
in the title of " plewrichcur," or "weeper," and the infant as 
" titeuse," or " sucker." While this was going on, the guardi- 



TRUMPETS. 



25 



ano of our room came in very mysteriously, and beckoned to my 
companion, saying that " Mademoiselle was at the gate." But 
it was the Italian who was wanted, and again, from the little 
window of our pavilion, we watched his hurried progress over 
the lawn. JSTo sooner had she departed, than he took his pocket 
telescope, slowly sweeping the circuit of the bay as she drew 
nearer and nearer Beyrout. He has succeeded in distinguish- 
ing, among the mass of buildings, the top of the house in which 
she lives, but alas! it is one story too low, and his patient 
espial has only been rewarded by the sight of some cats 
promenading on the roof. 

I have succeeded in obtaining some further particulars in 
relation to Quarantine. On the night of our arrival, as we 
were about getting into our beds, a sudden and horrible gush 
of brimstone vapor came up stairs, and we all fell to coughing 
like patients in a pulmonary hospital, The odor increased till 
we were obliged to open the windows and sit beside them in 
order to breathe comfortably. This was the preparatory fumi- 
gation, in order to remove the ranker seeds of plague, after 
which the milder symptoms will of themselves vanish in the 
pure air of the place. Several times a day we are stunned 
and overwhelmed with the cracked brays of three discordant 
trumpets, as grating and doleful as the last gasps of a dying 
donkey. At first I supposed the object of this was to give a 
greater agitation to the air, and separate and shake down the 
noxious exhalations we emit ; but since I was informed that the 
soldiers outside would shoot us in case we attempted to escape, 
I have concluded that the sound is meant to alarm us, and pre- 
vent our approaching too near the walls. On inquiring of our 
guardiano whether the wheat growing within the grounds was 

2 



26 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



subject to Quarantine, he informed me that it did not ccnvey 
infection, and that three old geese, who walked out past the 
guard with impunity, were free to go and come, as they had 
never been known to have the plague. Yesterday evening the 
medical attendant, a Polish physician, came in to inspect us, 
but he made a very hasty review, looking down on us from the 
top of a high horse. 

Monday, April 19. 

Eureka ! the whole thing is explained. Talking to day with 
the guardiano, he happened to mention that he had been three 
years in Quarantine, keeping watch over infected travellers. 
"What!" said I, "you have been sick three years." " Oh 
no/' he replied ; "I have never been sick at all." "But are 
not people sick in Quarantine V* " Staff erillah P* he exclaimed ; 
" they are always in better health than the people outside." 
" What is Quarantine for, then ?" I persisted. " What is it for ?" 
he repeated, with a pause of blank amazement at my ignorance, 
" why, to get money from the travellers !" Indiscreet guar- 
diano ! It were better to suppose ourselves under suspicion of 
the plague, than to have such an explanation of the mystery. 
Yet, in spite of the unpalatable knowledge, I almost regret 
that this is our last day in the establishment. The air is so 
pure and bracing, the views from our windows so magnificent, 
the colonized branch of the Beyrout Hotel so comfortable, 
that I am content to enjoy this pleasant idleness — the more 
pleasant since, being involuntary, it is no weight on the con- 
science. I look up to the Maronite villages, perched on the 
slopes of Lebanon, with scarce a wish to climb to them, or 
turning to the sparkling Mediterranean, view 



ORIENTAL EXAGGERATION. 



21 



" The speronara's sail of snowy hue 
Whitening and brightening on that field of blue," 

aDd have none of that unrest which the sight of a vessel in 
motion suggests. 

To-day my friend from Timbuctoo came up to have another 
talk. He was curious to know the object of my travels, and 
as he would not have comprehended the exact truth, I was 
obliged to convey it to him through the medium of fiction. I 
informed him that I had been dispatched by the Sultan of my 
country to obtain information of the countries of Africa; that 
I wrote in a book accounts of everything I saw, and on my 
return, would present this book to the Sultan, who would re- 
ward me with a high rank — perhaps even that of Grand Yizier. 
The Orientals deal largely in hyperbole, and scatter numbers 
and values with the most reckless profusion. The Arabic, like 
the Hebrew, its sister tongue, and other old original tongues 
of Man, is a language of roots, and abounds with the boldest 
metaphors. Now, exaggeration is but the imperfect form of 
metaphor. The expression is always a splendid amplification of 
the simple fact. Like skilful archers, in order to hit the mark, 
they aim above it. When you have once learned his standard 
of truth, you can readily gauge an Arab's expressions, and 
regulate your own accordingly. But whenever I have attempted 
to strike the key-note myself, I generally found that it was 
below, rather than above, the Oriental pitch. 

The Shekh had already informed me that the King of Ashan- 
tee, whom he had visited, possessed twenty-four houses full of 
gold, and that the Sultan of Houssa had seventy thousand 
horses always standing saddled before his palace, in order that 
he might take his choice, when he wished to ride out. By this 



28 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



he did not mean that the facts were precisely so, but only that 
the King was very rich, and the Sultan had a great many 
horses. In order to give the Shekh an idea of the great wealth 
and power of the American Xation, I was obliged to adopt the 
same plan. I told him, therefore, that our country was two 
years' journey in extent, that the Treasury consisted of four 
thousand houses filled to the roof with gold, and that two hun- 
dred thousand soldiers on horseback kept continual guard 
around Sultan Fillmore's palace. He received these tremendous 
statements with the utmost serenity and satisfaction, carefully 
wilting them in his book, together with the name of Sultan 
Fillmore, whose fame has ere this reached the remote regions 
of Timbuctoo. The Shekh, moreover, had the desire of visiting 
England, and wished me to give him a letter to the English 
Sultan. This rather exceeded my powers, but I wrote a simple 
certificate explaining who he was, and whence he came, which 
I sealed with an immense display of wax, and gave him. In 
return, he wrote his name in my book, in the Mughrebbin char- 
acter, adding the sentence : u There is no God but God." 

This evening the forbidden subject of politics crept into our 
quiet community, and the result was an explosive contention 
which drowned even the braying of the agonizing trumpets out- 
side. The gentlemanly Frenchman is a sensible and consistent 
republican, the old filatmr a violent monarchist, while Absa- 
lom, as I might have foreseen, is a Red, of the schools of Proud- 
hon and Considerant. The first predicted a Republic in 
France, the second a Monarchy in America, and the last was 
in favor of a general and total demolition of all existing sys- 
tems. Of course, with such elements, anything like a serious 
discussion was impossible ; and, as in most French debates, it 



DRAGOMEN. 



29 



ended in a bewildering confusion of cries and gesticulations. 
In the midst of it, I was struck by the cordiality with which 
the Monarchist and the Socialist united in their denunciations 
of England and the English laws. As they sat side by side, 
pouring out anathemas against " perfide Albion," I could not 
help exclaiming: " Voiia, comm,e les extremes se rencontrent I " 
This turned the whole current of their wrath against me, and 
I was glad to make a hasty retreat. 

The physician again visited us to-night, to promise a release 
to-morrow morning. He looked us all in the faces, to be cer- 
tain that there were no signs of pestilence, and politely regret- 
ted that he could not offer us his hand. The husband of the 
• 1 married woman" also came, and relieved the other gentlemen 
from the charge of the " weeper." He was a stout, ruddy 
Provencal, in a white blouse, and I commiserated him sincerely 
for having such a disagreeable wife. 

To-day, being the last of our imprisonment, we have received 
many tokens of attention from dragomen, who have sent their 
papers through the grate to us, to be returned to-morrow after 
our liberation. They are not very prepossessing specimens of 
their class, with the exception of Yusef Badra, who brings a 
recommendation from my friend, Ross Browne. Yusef is a 
handsome, dashing fellow, with something of the dandy in his 
dress and air, but he has a fine, clear, sparkling eye, with just 
enough of the devil in it to make him attractive. I think, how- 
ever, that the Greek dragoman, who has been our companion 
in Quarantine, will carry the day. He is by birth a Boeotian, 
but now a citizen of Athens, and calls himself Francois Vitalis. 
He speaks French, German, and Italian, besides Arabic and 
Turkish, and as he has been for twelve or fifteen years vibrat- 



30 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



ing between Europe and the East, he must by this time haye 
amassed sufficient experience to answer the needs of rough-and- 
tumble travellers like ourselves. He has not asked us for the 
place, which displays so much penetration on his part, that we 
shall end by offering it to him. Perhaps he is content to rest 
his claims upon the memory of our first Quarantine dinner. If 
so. the odors of the cutlets and larks — even of the raw onion, 
which we remember with tears — shall not plead his cause in 
vain. 

Beyeout (out of Quarantine), Wednesday, May 21. 

The handsome Greek, Diamanti, one of the proprietors of 
the " Hotel de Belle Yue," was on hand bright and early yes- 
terday morning, to welcome us out of Quarantine. The gates 
were thrown wide, and forth we issued between two files of 
soldiers, rejoicing in our purification. We walked through mul- 
berry orchards to the town, and through its steep and crooked 
streets to the hotel, which stands beyond, near the extremity 
of the Cape, or Has Beyrout. The town is small, but has an 
active population, and a larger commerce than any other port 
in Syria. The anchorage, however, is an open road, and in 
stormy weather it is impossible for a boat to land. There are 
two picturesque old castles on some rocks near the shore, but 
they were almost destroyed by the English bombardment in 
1841. I noticed two or three granite columns, now used as 
the lintels of some of the arched ways in the streets, and other 
fragments of old masonry, the only remains of the ancient 
Berytus. 

Our time, since our release, has been occupied by prepara- 
tions for the journey to Jerusalem. We have taken Frangois 
as dragoman, and our mukkairee, or muleteers, are engaged tc 



PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE. 



31 



be in readiness to-morrow morning. I learn that the Druses 
are in revolt in Djebel Hauaran and parts of the Anti-Lebanon, 
which will prevent my forming any settled plan for the tour 
through Palestine and Syria. Up to this time, the country has 
been considered quite safe, the only robbery this winter having 
been that of the party of Mr. Degen, of New York, which was 
plundered near Tiberias. Dr. Robinson left here two weeks 
ago for Jerusalem, in company with Dr. Eli Smith, of the 
American Mission at this place. 



32 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE COAST OF PALESTINE. 

The Pilgrimage Commences — The Muleteers — The Mules — The Donkey — Journey to 
Sidon— The Foot of Lebanon—Pictures— The Ruins of Tyre— A Wild Morning— The 
Tyrian Surges — Climbing the Ladder of Tyre — Panorama of the Bay of Acre — The 
Plain of Esdraelon — Camp in a G-arden — AcTe — the Shore of the Bay — Haifa — Mount 
Carmel and its Monastery — A Deserted Coast — The Ruins of Caesarea — The Scenery 
of Palestine — We become Robbers — El Haram — Wrecks— the Harbor and Town of 
Jaffa. 

11 Along the line of foam, the jewelled chain, 
The largesse of the ever-giving main." 

R. H. Stoddabd. 
Ramleh, April 27, 1852. 

We left Beyrout on the morning of the 22d. Our caravan 
consisted of three horses, three males, and a donkey, in charge 
of two men — Dervish, an erect, black-bearded, and most 
impassive Mussulman, and Mustapha, who is the very picture 
of patience and good-nature. He was born with a smile on 
his face, and has never been able to change the expression. 
They are both masters of their art, and can load a mule with a 
speed and skill which I would defy any Santa Fe trader to 
excel. The animals are not less interesting than their masters. 
Our horses, to be sure, are slow, plodding beasts, with consi- 
derable endurance, but little spirit ; but the two baggage- 
mules deserve gold medals from the Society for the Promotion 



THE MULES. 



33 



of Industry. I can overlook any amount of waywardness 
in the creatures, in consideration of the steady, persevering 
energy, the cheerfulness and even enthusiasm with -which they 
perform their duties. They seem to be conscious that they are 
doing well, and to take a delight in the consciousness. One 
of them has a band of white shells around his neck, fastened 
with a tassel and two large blue beads; and you need but look 
at him to see that he is aware how becoming it is. He thinks 
it was given to him for good conduct, and is doing his best to 
merit another. The little donkey is a still more original 
animal. He is a practical humorist, full of perverse tricks, 
but all intended for effect, and without a particle of malice, 
He generally walks behind, running off to one side or the 
other to crop a mouthful of grass, but no sooner does Dervish 
attempt to mount him, than he sets off at full gallop, and 
takes the lead of the caravan. After having performed one 
of his feats, he turns around with a droll glance at us, as much 
as to say : " Did you see that ?" If we had not been present, 
most assuredly he would never have done it. I can imagine 
him, after his return to Beyrout, relating his adventures to a 
company of fellow-donkeys, who every now and then burst into 
tremendous brays at some of his irresistible dry sayings. 

I persuaded Mr. Harrison to adopt the Oriental costume, 
which, from five months' wear in Africa, I greatly preferred to 
the Frank. We therefore rode out of Beyrout as a pair 
of Syrian Beys, while Francois, with his belt, sabre, and pistols, 
had much the aspect of a Greek brigand. The road crosses the 
hill behind the city, between the Forest of Pines and a long 
tract of red sand-hills next the sea. It was a lovely morning, 
not too bright and hot, for light, fleecy vapors hung along the 

2* 



34 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



sides of Lebanon. Beyond the mulberry orchards, we entered 
on wild, half-cultivated tracts, covered with a bewildering maze 
of blossoms. The hill-side and stony shelves of soil overhang- 
ing the sea fairly blazed with the brilliant dots of color which 
were rained upon them. The pink, the broom, the poppy, the 
speedwell, the lupin, that beautiful variety of the cyclamen, 
called by the Syrians " deek e-djebel" (cock o' the mountain), 
and a number of unknown plants dazzled the eye with their 
profusion, and loaded the air with fragrance as rare as it was 
unfailing. Here and there, clear, swift rivulets came down 
from Lebanon, coursing their way between thickets of bloom- 
ing oleanders. Just before crossing the little river Damoor, 
Francois pointed out, on one of the distant heights, the resi- 
dence of the late Lady Hester Stanhope. During the after- 
noon we crossed several offshoots of the Lebanon, by paths 
incredibly steep and stony, and towards evening reached Saida, 
the ancient Sidon, where we obtained permission to pitch our 
tent in a garden. The town is built on a narrow point of land, 
jutting out from the centre of a bay, or curve in the coast, and 
contains about five thousand inhabitants. It is a quiet, sleepy 
sort of a place, and contains nothing of the old Sidon except a 
few stones and the fragments of a mole, extending into the sea, 
The fortress in the water, and the Citadel, are remnants of 
Yenitian sway. The clouds gathered after nightfall, and 
occasionally there was a dash of rain on our tent. But I heard 
it with the same quiet happiness, as when, in boyhood, sleep- 
ing beneath the rafters, I have heard the rain beating all night 
upon the roof. I breathed the sweet breath of the grasses 
whereon my carpet was spread, and old Mother Earth, wel- 
coming me back to her bosom, cradled me into calm and 



THE FOOT OF LEBANON 



3b 



refreshing sleep. There is no rest more grateful than that 
which we take on the turf or the sand, except the rest below 
it. 

We rose in a dark and cloudy morning, and continued our 
way between fields of barley, completely stained with the 
bloody hue of the poppy, and meadows turned into golden 
mosaic by a brilliant yellow daisy. Until noon our road was 
over a region of alternate meadow land and gentle though stony 
elevations, making out from Lebanon. We met continually 
with indications of ancient power and prosperity. The ground 
was strewn with hewn blocks, and the foundations of buildings 
remain in many places. Broken sarcophagi lie half-buried in 
grass, and the gray rocks of the hills are pierced with tombs. 
The soil, though stony, appeared to be naturally fertile, and 
the crops of wheat, barley, and lentils were very flourishing. 
After rounding the promontory which forms the southern boun- 
dary of the Gulf of Sidon, we rode for an hour or two over a 
plain near the sea, and then came down to a valley which ran 
up among the hills, terminating in a natural amphitheatre. An 
ancient barrow, or tumulus, nobody knows of whom, stands 
near the sea. During the day I noticed two charming little 
pictures. One, a fountain gushing into a broad square basin 
of masonry, shaded by three branching cypresses. Two Turks 
sat on its edge, eating their bread and curdled milk, while 
their horses drank out of the stone trough below. The other, 
an old Mahommedan, with a green turban and white robe, 
seated at the foot of a majestic sycamore, over the high bank 
of a stream that tumbled down its bed of white marble rock to 
the sea. 

The plain back of the narrow, sandy promontory on which 



36 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the modern Soor is built, is a rich black loam, which a little 
proper culture would turn into a very garden. It helped me 
to account for the wealth of ancient Tyre. The approach to 
the town, along a beach on which the surf broke with a con- 
tinuous roar, with the wreck of a Greek vessel in the fore- 
ground, and a stormy sky behind, was very striking. It was 
a wild, bleak picture, the white minarets of the town standing 
out spectrally against the clouds. We rode up the sand-hills, 
back of the town, and selected a good camping-place among 
the ruins of Tyre. Xear us there was an ancient square build- 
ing, now used as a cistern, and filled with excellent fresh water. 
The surf roared tremendously on the rocks, on either hand, 
and the boom of the more distant breakers came to my ear 
like the wind in a pine forest. The remains of the ancient sea- 
wall are still to be traced for the entire circuit of the city, and 
the heavy surf breaks upon piles of shattered granite columns. 
Along a sort of mole, protecting an inner harbor on the north 
side, are great numbers of these columns. I counted fifteen 
in one group, some of them fine red granite, and some of the 
marble of Lebanon. The remains of the pharos and the for- 
tresses strengthening the sea-wall, were pointed out by the 
Syrian who accompanied us as a guide, but his faith was a 
little stronger than mine. He even showed us the ruins of the 
jetty built by Alexander, by means of which the ancient city, 
then insulated by the sea, was taken. The remains of the cause- 
way gradually formed the promontory by which the place is 
now connected with the main land. These are the principal 
indications of Tyre above ground, but the guide informed us 
that the Arabs, in digging among the sand-hills for the stones 
of the old buildings, which they quarry out and ship to Bey- 



THE TYRIAN SURGES. 



87 



rout, come upon chambers, pillars, arches, and other objects 
The Tyrian purple ii still furnished by a muscle found upon the 
coast, but Tyre is now only noted for its tobacco and mill- 
stones. I saw many of the latter lying in the streets of the 
town, and an Arab was selling a quantity at auction in the 
square, as we passed. They are cut out from a species of dark 
volcanic rock, by the Bedouins of the mountains. There were 
half a dozen small coasting vessels lying in the road, but the 
old harbors are entirely destroyed. Isaiah's prophecy is liter- 
ally fulfilled : " Howl, ye ships of Tarshish ; for it is laid waste, 
so that there is no house, no entering in." 

On returning from our ramble we passed the house of the 
Governor, Daood Agha, who was dispensing justice in regard 
to a lawsuit then before him. He asked us to stop and take 
coffee, and received us with much grace and dignity. As we 
rose to leave, a slave brought me a large bunch of choice flowers 
from his garden. 

We set out from Tyre at an early hour, and rode along the 
beach around the head of the bay to the Ras-el-Abiad, the 
ancient Promontorium Album. The morning was wild and 
cloudy, with gleams of sunshine that flashed out over the dark 
violet gloom of the sea. The surf was magnificent, rolling up 
in grand billows, which broke and formed again, till the last 
of the long, failing fringes of snow slid seething up the sand. 
Something of ancient power was in their shock and roar, and 
every great wave that plunged and drew back again, called in 
its solemn bass: " Where are the ships of Tyre? where are 
the ships of Tyre ?" I looked back on the city, which stood 
advanced far into the sea, her feet bathed in thunderous spray. 
By and by the clouds cleared away, the sun came out bold and 



38 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



bright, and our road left the beach for a meadowy plain, 
crossed by fresh streams, and sown with an inexhaustible wealth 
of flowers. Through thickets of myrtle and mastic, around 
which the rue and lavender grew in dense clusters, we reached 
he foot of the mountain, and began ascending the celebrated 
Ladder of Tyre. The road is so steep as to resemble a stair- 
case, and climbs along the side of the promontory, hanging 
over precipices of naked white rock, in some places three hun- 
dred feet in height. The mountain is a mass of magnesian 
limestone, with occasional beds of marble. The surf has worn 
its foot into hollow caverns, into which the sea rushes with a 
dull, heavy boom, like distant thunder. The sides are covered 
with thickets of broom, myrtle, arbutus, ilex, mastic and laurel, 
overgrown with woodbine, and interspersed with patches of 
sage, lavender, hyssop, wild thyme, and rue. The whole moun- 
tain is a heap of balm ; a bundle of sweet spices. 

Our horses' hoofs clattered up and down the rounds of the 
ladder, and we looked our last on Tyre, fading away behind 
the white hem of the breakers, as we turned the point of the 
promontory. Another cove of the mountain-coast followed, 
terminated by the Cape of Xakkura, the northern point of the 
Bay of Acre. We rode along a stony way between fields of 
wheat and barley, blotted almost out of sight by showers of 
scarlet poppies and yellow chrysanthemums. There were fre- 
quent ruins : fragments of sarcophagi, foundations of houses, 
and about half way between the two capes, the mounds of 
Alexandro-Schcenge. TVe stopped at a khan, and breakfasted 
under a magnificent olive tree, while two boys tended our 
horses to see that they ate only the edges of the wheat field. 
Below the house were two large cypresses, and on a little 



PANORAMA OF THE BAY OF ACRE. 



39 



tongue of land the ruins of one of those square towers of the 
corsairs, which line all this coast. The intense blue of the 
sea, seen close at hand over a broad field of goldening wheat, 
formed a dazzling and superb contrast of color. Early in the 
afternoon we climbed the Ras Nakhura, not so bold and grand, 
though quite as flowery a steep as the Promontorium Alb am. 
We had been jogging half an hour over its uneven summit, 
when the side suddenly fell away below us, and we saw the 
w T hole of the great gulf and plain of Acre, backed by the long 
ridge of Mount Carmel. Behind the sea, which makes a deep 
indentation in the line of the coast, extended the plain, 
bounded on the east, at two leagues' distance, by a range of 
hills covered with luxuriant olive groves, and still higher, by 
the distant mountains of Galilee. The fortifications of Acre 
were visible on a slight promontory near the middle of the 
Gulf. From our feet the line of foamy surf extended for 
miles along the red sand-beach, till it finally became like a 
chalk-mark on the edge of the field of blue. 

We rode down the mountain and continued our journey over 
the plain of Esdraelon — a picture of summer luxuriance and 
bloom. The waves of wheat and barley rolled away from our 
path to the distant olive orchards ; here the water gushed 
from a stone fountain and flowed into a turf-girdled pool, 
around which the Syrian women were washing their garments ; 
there, a garden of orange, lemon, fig, and pomegranate trees 
in blossom, was a spring of sweet odors, which overflowed the 
whole land. We rode into some of these forests, for they were 
no less, and finally pitched our tent in one of them, belonging 
to the palace of the former Abdallah Pasha, within a mile of 
Acre. The old Sarace \ aqueduct, which still conveys water to 



40 



THE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the town, overhung our tent. For an hour before reaching our 
destination, we had seen it on the left, crossing the hollows on 
light stone arches. In one place I counted fifty-eight, and in 
another one hundred and three of these arches, some of which 
were fifty feet high. Our camp was a charming place : a nest 
of deep herbage, under two enormous fig-trees, and surrounded 
by a balmy grove of orange and citron. It was doubly beau- 
tiful when the long line of the aqueduct was lit up by the moon, 
and the orange trees became mounds of ambrosial darkness. 

In the morning we rode to Acre, the fortifications of which 
have been restored on the land-side. A ponderous double gate- 
way of stone admitted us into the city, through what was once, 
apparently, the court-yard of a fortress. The streets of the 
town are narrow, terribly rough, and very dirty, but the 
bazaars are extensive and well stocked. The principal mosque, 
whose heavy dome is visible at some distance from the city, is 
surrounded with a garden, enclosed by a pillared corridor, 
paved with marble. All the houses of the city are built in the 
most massive style, of hard gray limestone or marble, and this 
circumstance alone prevented their complete destruction during 
the English bombardment in 1841. The marks of the shells 
are everywhere seen, and the upper parts of the lofty buildings 
are completely riddled with cannon-balls, some of which 
remain embedded in the stone. We made a rapid tour of the 
town on horseback, followed by the curious glances of the 
people, who were in doubt whether to consider us Turks or 
Franks. There were a dozen vessels in the harbor, which is 
considered the best in Syria. 

The baggage-mules had gone on, so we galloped after them 
along the hard beach, around the head of the bay. It was a 



HAIFA AND MOUNT CARMES 



41 



brilliant morning ; a delicious south-eastern breeze came to us 
over the flowery plain of Esdraelon ; the sea on our right shone 
blue, and purple, and violet-green, and black, as the shadows 
or sunshine crossed it, and only the long lines of roaring foam, 
for ever changing in form, did not vary in hue. A fisherman 
stood on the beach in a statuesque attitude, his handsome bare 
legs bathed in the frothy swells, a bag of fish hanging from his 
shoulder, and the large square net, with its sinkers of lead in 
his right hand, ready for a cast. He had good luck, for the 
waves brought up plenty of large fish, and cast them at our 
feet, leaving them to struggle back into the treacherous brine. 
Between Acre and Haifa we passed six or eight wrecks, mostly 
of small trading vessels. Some were half buried in sand, some 
so old and mossy that they were fast rotting away, while a few 
had been recently hurled there. As we rounded the deep curve 
of the bay, and approached the line of palm-trees girding the 
foot of Mount Carmel, Haifa, with its wail and Saracenic 
town in ruin on the hill above, grew more clear and bright in 
the sun, while Acre dipped into the blue of the Mediterranean. 
The town of Haifa, the ancient Caiapha, is small, dirty, and 
beggarly looking ; but it has some commerce, sharing the trade 
of Acre in the productions of Syria. It was Sunday, and all 
the Consular flags were flying. It was an unexpected delight 
to find the American colors in this little Syrian town, flying 
from one of the tallest poles. The people stared at us as we 
passed, and I noticed among them many bright Frankish faces, 
with eyes too clear and gray for Syria. ye kind brothers of 
the monastery of Carmel ! forgive me if I look to you for an 
explanation of this phenomenon. 

We ascended to Mount Carmel. The path led through a 



42 



THE LAXD3 OF THE SARACEN. 



grove of carob trees, from which the beans, known in Germany 
as St. John's bread, are produced. After this we came into 
an olive grove at the foot of the mountain, from wnich long 
fields of wheat, giving forth a ripe summer smell, flowed down 
to the shore of the bay. The olive trees were of immense size, 
and I can well believe, as Fra Carlo informed us, that they 
were probably planted by the Roman colonists, established 
there by Titus. The gnarled, veteran boles still send forth 
vigorous and blossoming boughs. There were all manner of 
lovely lights and shades chequered over the turf and the wind- 
ing path we rode. At last we reached the foot of an ascent, 
steeper than the Ladder of Tyre. As our horses slowly climbed 
to the Convent of St. Elijah, whence we already saw the French 
flag floating over the shoulder of the mountain, the view opened 
grandly to the north and east, revealing the bay and plain of 
Acre, and the coast as far as Has Nakhura, from which we first 
saw Mount Carmel the day previous. The two views are very 
similar in character, one being the obverse of the other. We 
reached the Convent — Dayr Mar Elias, as the Arabs call it — 
at noon, just in time to partake of a bountiful dinner, to which 
the monks had treated themselves. Fra Carlo, the good Fran- 
ciscan who receives strangers, showed us the building, and the 
Grotto of Elijah, which is under the altar of the Convent 
Church, a small but very handsome structure of Italian marble. 
The sanctity of the Grotto depends on tradition entirely, as 
there is no mention in the Bible of Elijah having resided on 
Carmel, though it was from this mountain that he saw the 
cloud, " like a man's hand," rising from the sea. The Convent, 
which is quite new — not yet completed, in fact — is a large, 
massive building, and has the aspect of a fortress. 



THE RUINS OF CJ5SAREA. 



43 



As we were to sleep at Tantura, five hours distant, we 
were obliged to make a short visit, in spite of the invitation of 
the hospitable Fra Carlo to spend the night there. In the 
afternoon we passed the ruins of Athlit, a town of the Middle 
Ages, and the Castel Pellegrino of the Crusaders. Our road 
now followed the beach, nearly the whole distance to Jaffa, 
and was in many places, for leagues in extent, a solid layer of 
white, brown, purple and rosy shells, which cracked and rattled 
under our horses' feet. Tantura is a poor Arab village, and 
we had some difficulty in procuring provisions. The people 
lived in small huts of mud and stones, near the sea. The place 
had a thievish look, and we deemed it best to be careful in the 
disposal of our baggage for the night. 

In the morning we took the coast again, riding over millions 
of shells. A line of sandy hills, covered with thickets of 
myrtle and mastic, shut off the view of the plain and meadows 
between the sea and the hills of Samaria. After three hours' 
ride we saw the ruins of ancient Csesarea, near a small pro- 
montory. The road turned away from the sea, and took the 
. wild plain behind, which is completely overgrown with camo- 
mile, chrysanthemum and wild shrubs. The ruins of the town 
are visible at a considerable distance along the coast. The 
principal remains consist of a massive wall, flanked with pyra- 
midal bastions at regular intervals, and with the traces of gate- 
ways, draw-bridges and towers. It was formerly surrounded 
by a deep moat. Within this space, which may be a quarter 
of a mile square, are a few fragments of buildings, and toward 
the sea, some high arches and masses of masonry. The plain 
around abounds with traces of houses, streets, and court-yards. 
Caesarea was one of the Roman colonies, but owed its prospe- 



44 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



rity principally to Herod. St. Paul passed through it on hia 
way from Macedon to Jerusalem, by the very road we were 
travelling. 

During the day the path struck inland over a vast rolling 
plain, covered with sage, lavender and other sweet-smelling 
shrubs, and tenanted by herds of gazelles and flocks of large 
storks. As we advanced further, the landscape became singu- 
larly beautiful. It was a broad, shallow valley, swelling away 
towards the east into low, rolling hills, far back of which rose 
the blue line of the mountains — the hill-country of Judea. 
The soil, where it was ploughed, was the richest vegetable loam. 
Where it lay fallow it was entirely hidden by a bed of grass 
and camomile. Here anci there great herds of sheep and goats 
browsed on the herbage. There was a quiet pastoral air about 
the landscape, a soft serenity in its forms and colors, as if the 
Hebrew patriarchs still made it their abode. The district is 
famous for robbers, and we kept our arms in readiness, never 
suffering the baggage to be out of our sight. 

Towards evening, as Mr. H. and myself, with Francois, 
were riding in advance of the baggage mules, the former with 
his gun in his hand, I with a pair of pistols thrust through the 
folds of my shawl, and Francois with his long Turkish sabre, 
we came suddenly upon a lonely Englishman, whose com- 
panions were somewhere in the rear. He appeared to be 
struck with terror on seeing us making towards him, and, 
turning his horse's head, made an attempt to fly. The animal, 
however, was restive, and, after a few plunges, refused to 
move. The traveller gave himself up for lost ; his arms 
dropped by his side ; he stared wildly at us, with pale face 
and eyes opened wide with a look of helpless fright. Restrain- 



EL HARAM. 



45 



ing with difficulty a snout of laughter, I said to bin ; " Did 
you leave Jaffa to-day V 9 but so completely was his ear the 
fool of his imagination, that he thought I was speaking 
Arabic, and made a faint attempt to get out the only word or 
two of that language which he knew. I then repeated, with 
as much distinctness as I could command : " Did- — you — leave 
— J affa : — to-day ?" He stammered mechanically, through his 
chattering teeth, " Y-y-yes !" and we immediately dashed off 
at a gallop through the bushes. When we last saw him, he 
was standing as we left him, apparently not yet recovered 
from the shock. 

At the little village of El Haram, where we spent the 
night, I visited the tomb of Sultan Ali ebn-Aleym, who is now 
revered as a saint. It is enclosed in a mosque, crowning the 
top of a hill. I was admitted into the court-yard without 
hesitation, though, from the porter styling me "Effendi," he 
probably took me for a Turk. At the entrance to the inner 
court, I took off my slippers and walked to the tomb of the 
Sultan — a square heap of white marble, in a small marble 
enclosure. In one of the niches in the wall, near the tomb, 
there is a very old iron box, with a slit in the top. The por- 
ter informed me that it contained a charm, belonging to Sul- 
tan Ali, which was of great use in producing rain in times of 
drouth. 

In the morning we sent our baggage by a short road across 
the country to this place, and then rode down the beach 
towards Jaffa. The sun came out bright and hot as we paced 
along the line of spray, our horses' feet sinking above the fet- 
locks in pink and purple shells, while the droll sea-crabs scam- 
pered away from our path, and the blue gelatinous sea-nettles 



46 



THE U *DS OF THE SARACEN. 



were tossed before us by the surge. Our view was confined to 
the sand-hills — sometimes covered with a flood of scarlet pop- 
pies — on one hand; and to the blue, surf-fringed sea on the 
other. The terrible coast was still lined with wrecks, and 
just before reaching the town, we passed a vessel of some two 
hundred tons, recently cast ashore, with her strong hull still 
unbroken. We forded the rapid stream of El Anjeh, which 
comes down from the Plain of Sharon, the water rising to our 
saddles. The low promontory in front now broke into towers 
and white domes, and great masses of heavy walls. The 
aspect or Jaffa is exceedingly picturesque. It is built on a 
hill, and the land for many miles around it being low and flat, 
its topmost houses overlook all the fields of Sharon. The old 
harbor, protected by a reef of rocks, is on the north side of 
the town, but is now so sanded up that large vessels cannot 
enter. A number of small craft were lying close to the shore. 
The port presented a different scene when the ships of Hiram, 
King of Tyre, came in with the materials for the Temple of 
Solomon. There is but one gate on the land side, which 
is rather strongly fortified. Outside of this there is an open 
space, which we found filled with venders of oranges and vege- 
tables, camel-men and the like, some vociferating in loud dis- 
pute, some given up to silence and smoke, under the shade of 
the sycamores. 

We rode under the heavily arched and towered gateway, 
and entered the bazaar. The street was crowded, and there 
was such a confusion of camels, donkeys, and men, that 
we made our way with difficulty along the only practicable 
street in the city, to the sea-side, where Francois pointed out 
a hole in the wall as the veritable spot where Jonah was cast 



JAFFA. 



41 



ashore by the whale. This part of the harbor is the recep- 
tacle of all the offal of the town ; and I do not wonder 
that the whale's stomach should have turned on approaching 
'it. The sea-street was filled with merchants and traders, and 
we were obliged to pick our way between bars of iron, skins 
of oil, heaps of oranges, and piles of building timber. At last 
we reached the end, and, as there was no other thoroughfare, 
returned the same way we went, passed out the gate, and took 
the road to Ramleh and Jerusalem. 

But 1 hear the voice of Francois, announcing, " Messieurs, le 
diner est pret." We are encamped just beside the pool of 
Ramleh, and the mongrel children of the town are making 
a great noise in the meadow below it. Our horses are enjoy- 
ing their barley ; and Mustapha stands at the tent-door tying 
up his sacks. Dogs are barking and donkeys braying all 
along the borders of the town, whose filth and dilapidation 
are happily concealed by the fig and olive gardens which sur- 
round it. I have not curiosity enough to visit the Greek and 
Latin Convents embedded in its foul purlieus, but content 
myself with gazing from my door upon the blue hills of 
Palestine, which we must cross to-morrow, on our way to 
Jerusalem. 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER III. 

FROM JAFFA TO JERUSALEM. 

The Garden of Jaffa— Breakfast at a Fountain— The Plain of Sharon— The Ruined 
Mosque of Ramleh— A Judean Landscape— The Streets of Ramleh— Am I in Pales- 
tine ? — A Heavenly Morning— The Land of Miik and Honey— Entering the Hill- 
Country— The Pilgrim's Breakfast— The Father of Lies— A Church of the Crusaders 
—The Agriculture of the Hills— The Valley of Elah— Day-Dreams— The Wilderness 
—The Approach— We see the Holy City. 

" Through the air sublime, 

Over the wilderness and o'er the plain ; 
Till underneath them fair Jerusalem, 
The Holy City, lifted high her towers." 

Paradise Regained. 
Jerusalem, Thursday, April 29, 1852. 

Leaving the gate of Jaffa, we rode eastward between delight- 
ful gardens of fig, citron, orange, pomegranate and palm. The 
country for several miles around the city is a complete level — 
part of the great plain of Sharon — and the gray mass of 
building crowning the little promontory, is the only landmark 
seen above the green garden-land, on looking towards the sea* 
The road was lined with hedges of giant cactus, now in blos- 
som, and shaded occasionally with broad-armed sycamores. 
The orange trees were in bloom, and at the same time laden 
down with ripe fruit. The oranges of Jaffa are the finest in 
Syria, and great numbers of them are sent to Beyrout and 



THE PLAIN OF SHARON. 



49 



other ports further north. The dark foliage of the pome- 
granate fairly blazed with its heavy scarlet blossoms, and here 
and there a cluster of roses made good the Scriptural renown 
of those of Sharon. The road was filled with people, passing 
to and fro, and several families of Jaffa Jews were having a 
sort of pic-nic in the choice shady spots. 

Ere long we came to a fountain, at a point where two roads 
met. It was a large square structure of limestone and marble, 
with a stone trough in front, and a delightful open chamber at 
the side. The space in front was shaded with immense syca- 
more trees, to which we tied our horses, and then took our seats 
in the window above the fountain, where the Greek brought us 
our breakfast. The water was cool and delicious, as were our 
Jaffa oranges. It was a charming spot, for as we sat we could 
look under the boughs of the great trees, and down between 
the gardens to Jaffa and the Mediterranean. After leaving 
the gardens, we came upon the great plain of Sharon, on which 
we could see the husbandmen at work far and near, ploughing 
and sowing their grain. In some instances, the two operations 
were made simultaneously, by having a sort of funnel attached 
to the plough-handle, running into a tube which entered the 
earth just behind the share. The man held the plough with 
one hand, while with the other he dropped the requisite quan- 
tity of seed through the tube into the furrow. The people are 
ploughing now for their summer crops, and the wheat and bar- 
ley which they sowed last winter are already in full head. On 
other parts of the plain, there were large flocks of sheep and 
goats, with their attendant shepherds. So ran the rich land- 
scape, broken only by belts of olive trees, to the far hills of 
Judea, 

3 



50 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Riding on over the long, low swells, fragrant with wild 
thyme and camomile, we saw at last the tower of Ramleh, and 
down the valley, an hour's ride to the north-east, the minaret 
of Ludd, the ancient Lydda. Still further, I could see the 
houses of the village of Sharon, embowered in olives. Ramleh 
is built along the crest and on the eastern slope of a low hill, 
and at a distance appears like a stately place, but this impres- 
sion is immediately dissipated on entering it. West of the 
town is a large square tower, between eighty and ninety feet in 
height. We rode up to it through an orchard of ancient olive 
trees, and over a field of beans. The tower is evidently a min- 
aret, as it is built in the purest Saracenic style, and is sur- 
rounded by the ruins of a mosque. I have rarely seen any- 
thing more graceful than the ornamental arches of the upper 
portions. Over the door is a lintel of white marble, with an 
Arabic inscription. The mosque to which the tower is attached 
is almost entirely destroyed, and only part of the arches of a 
corridor around three sides of a court-yard, with the fountain 
in the centre, still remain. The subterranean cisterns, under 
the court-yard, amazed me with their extent and magnitude. 
They are no less than twenty-four feet deep, and covered by 
i wenty-four vaulted ceilings, each twelve feet square, and rest- 
ing on massive pillars. The mosque, when entire, must have 
been one of the finest in Syria. 

We clambered over the broken stones cumbering the entrance, 
and mounted the steps to the very summit. The view reached 
from Jaffa and the sea to the mountains near Jerusalem, and 
southward to the plain of Ascalon — a great expanse of grain 
and grazing land, all blossoming as the rose, and dotted, espe- 
cially near the mountains, with dark, luxuriant olive-groves. 



AM I IN PALESTINE? 



Ol 



The landscape had something of the green, pastoral beauty of 
England, except the mountains, which were wholly of Palestine. 
The shadows of fleecy clouds, drifting slowly from east to west, 
moved across the landscape, which became every moment softer 
and fairer in the light of the declining sun. 

I did not tarry in Ramleh. The streets are narrow, crooked, 
and filthy as only an Oriental town can be. The houses have 
either flat roofs or domes, out of the crevices in which springs 
a plentiful crop of weeds. Some yellow dogs barked at us as 
we passed, children in tattered garments stared, and old tur- 
baned heads were raised from the pipe, to guess who the two 
brown individuals might be, and why they were attended by 
such a fierce cawass. Passing through the eastern gate, we 
were gladdened by the sight of our tents, already pitched in 
the meadow beside the cistern. Dervish had arrived an hour 
before us, and had everything ready for the sweet lounge of an 
hour, to which we treat ourselves after a day's ride. I watched 
the evening fade away over the blue hills before us, and tried 
to convince myself that I should reach J erusalem on the mor- 
row. Reason said : " You certainly will !" — but to Faith the 
Holy City was as far off as ever. Was it possible that I was 
in Judea ? Was this the Holy Land of the Crusades, the soil 
hallowed by the feet of Christ and his Apostles ? I must 
believe it. Yet it seemed once that if I ever trod that earth, 
then beneath my feet, there would be thenceforth a consecra- 
tion in my life, a holy essence, a purer inspiration on the lips, 
a surer faith in the heart. And because I was not other than 
I had been, I half doubted whether it was the Palestine of 
my dreams. 

A number of Arab cameleers, who had come with travellers 



52 



TEE LANDS OF THE SABACEX. 



across the Desert from Egypt, were encamped near us. Fran- 
cois was suspicious of some of them, and therefore divided the 
night into three watches, which were kept by himself and our 
two men. Mustapha was the last, and kept not only himself, 
but myself, wide awake by his dolorous chants of love and reli- 
gion. I fell sound asleep at dawn, but was roused before 
sunrise by Francois, who wished to start betimes, on account 
of the rugged road we had to travel. The morning was 
mild, clear, and balmy, and we were soon packed and in 
motion. Leaving the baggage to follow, wo rode ahead 
over the fertile fields. The wheat and poppies were glistening 
with dew, birds sang among the fig-trees, a cool breeze came 
down from the hollows of the hills, and my blood leaped 
as nimbly and joyously as a young hart on the mountains of 
B ether. 

Between Ramleh and the hill-country, a distance of about 
eight miles, is the roiling plain of Arimathea, and this, as well 
as the greater part of the plain of Sharon, is one of the richest 
districts in the world. The soil is a dark-brown loam, and, 
without manure, produces annually superb crops of wheat and 
barley. We rode for miles through a sea of wheat, waving 
far and wide over the swells of land. The tobacco in the fields 
about Ramleh was the most luxuriant I ever saw, and the 
olive and fig attain a size and lusty strength wholly unknown 
in Italy. Judea cursed of God ! what a misconception, not 
only of God's mercy and beneficence, but of the actual fact ! 
Give Palestine into Christian hands, and it will again flow with 
milk and honey. Except some parts of Asia Minor, no por- 
tion of the Levant is capable of yielding such a harvest of 
grain, silk, wool, fruits, oil, and wine. The great disadvantage 



ENTERING THE HILL-COUNTRY. 53 



under which the country labors, 4s its frequent drouths, 
but were the soil more generally cultivated, and the old 
orchards replanted, these would neither be so frequent nor so 
severe. 

We gradually ascended the hills, passing one or two villages, 
imbedded in groves of olives. In the little valleys, slanting 
down to the plains, the Arabs were still ploughing and sowing, 
singing the while an old love-song, with its chorus of " ya, 
ghazalee! ya, ghazalee!" (oh, gazelle ! oh, gazelle!) The valley 
narrowed, the lowlands behind us spread out broader, and in 
half an hour more we were threading a narrow pass, between 
stony hills, overgrown with ilex, myrtle, and dwarf oak. The 
wild purple rose of Palestine blossomed on all sides, and a fra- 
grant white honeysuckle in some places hung from the rocks. 
The path was terribly rough, and barely wide enough for two 
persons on horseback to pass each other. We met a few pil- 
grims returning from Jerusalem, and a straggling company of 
armed Turks, who had such a piratical air, that without the 
solemn asseveration of Francois that the road was quite safe, 
I should have felt uneasy about our baggage. Most of the 
persons we passed were Mussulmen, few of whom gave the 
customary " Peace be with you !" but once a Syrian Christian 
saluted me with, " God go with you, Pilgrim I ?? For 
two hours after entering the mountains, there was scarcely 
a sign of cultivation. The rock was limestone, or marble, 
lying in horizontal strata, the broken edges of which rose like 
terraces to the summits. These shelves were so covered with 
vild shrubs — in some places even with rows of olive trees — 
that to me they had not the least appearance of that desola- 
tion so generally ascribed to them. 



54 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

In a little dell among the hills there is a small ruined mosque, 
or chapel (I could not decide which), shaded by a group of 
magnificent terebinth trees. Several Arabs were resting in its 
shade, and we hoped to find there the water we were looking 
for, in order to make breakfast. But it was not to be found, 
and we climbed nearly to the summit of the first chain of hills, 
where in a small olive orchard, there was a cistern, filled by 
the late rains. It belonged to two ragged boys, who brought 
us an earthen vessel of the water, and then asked, " Shall we 
bring you milk, Pilgrims !" I assented, and received a small 
jug of thick buttermilk, not remarkably clean, but very refresh- 
ing. My companion, who had not recovered from his horror at 
finding that the inhabitants of Ramleh washed themselves in 
the pool which supplied us and them, refused to touch it. We 
made but a short rest, for it was now nearly noon, and there 
were yet many rough miles between us and Jerusalem. We 
crossed the first chain of mountains, rode a short distance over 
a stony upland, and then descended into a long cultivated 
valley, running to the eastward. At the end nearest us 
appeared the village of Aboo '1 Ghosh (the Father of Lies), 
which takes its name from a noted Bedouin shekh, who distin- 
guished himself a few years ago by levying contributions on 
travellers. He obtained a large sum of money in this way, 
but as he added murder to robbery, and fell upon Turks as 
well as Christians, he was finally captured, and is now expi- 
ating his offences in some mine on the coast of the Black 
Sea. 

Near the bottom of the willage there is a large ruined build- 
ing, now used as a stable by the inhabitants. The interior is 
divided into a nave and two side-aisles by rows of square 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HILLS. 



55 



pillars, from which spring pointed arches. The door-way is at 
the side, and is Gothic, with a dash of Saracenic in the orna- 
mental mouldings above it. The large window at the extremity 
of the nave is remarkable for having round arches, which circum- 
stance, together with the traces of arabesque painted ornaments 
on the columns, led me to think it might have been a mosque ; 
but Dr. Robinson, who is now here, considers it a Christian 
church, of the time of the Crusaders. The village of Aboo 7 1 
Ghosh is said to be the site of the birth-place of the Prophet 
Jeremiah, and I can well imagine it to have been the case. 
The aspect of the mountain-country to the east and north-east 
would explain the savage dreariness of his lamentations. The 
whole valley in which the village stands, as well as another 
which joins it on the east, is most assiduously cultivated. The 
stony mountain sides are wrought into terraces, where, in spite 
of soil which resembles an American turnpike, patches of 
wheat are growing luxuriantly, and olive trees, centuries old, 
hold on to the rocks with a clutch as hard and bony as the 
hand of Death. In the bed of the valley the fig tree thrives, 
and sometimes the vine and fig grow together, forming the 
patriarchal arbor of shade familiar to us all. The shoots of 
the tree are still young and green, but the blossoms of the 
grape do not yet give forth their goodly savor. I did not hear 
the voice of the turtle, but a nightingale sang in the brierv 
thickets by the brook side, as we passed along. 

Climbing out of this valley, we descended by a stony stair- 
case, as rugged as the Ladder of Tyre, into the Wady Beit- 
Hanineh. Here were gardens of oranges in blossom, with 
orchards of quince and apple, overgrown with vines, and the 
fragrant hawthorn tree, snowy with its bloom. A stone 



56 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



bridge, the only one on the road, crosses the dry bed of a 
winter stream, and, looking up the glen, I saw the Arab 
village of Kulonieh, at the entrance of the valley of Elah, 
glorious with the memories of the shepherd-boy, David. Our 
road turned off to the right, and commenced ascending a long, 
dry glen between mountains which grew more sterile the 
further we went. It was nearly two hours past noon, the sun 
fiercely hot, and our horses were nigh jaded out with the rough 
road and our impatient spurring. I began to fancy we could 
see Jerusalem from the top of the pass, and tried to think of 
the ancient days of Judea. But it was in vain. A newer 
picture shut them out, and banished even the diviner images 
of Our Saviour and His Disciples. Heathen that I was, I 
could only think of Godfrey and the Crusaders, toiling up the 
same path, and the ringing lines of Tasso vibrated constantly 
in my ear : 

" Ecco apparir Gierusalemm' si vede ; 
Ecco additar Gierusalemm' si scorge ; 
Ecco da mille voci unitamente, 
Gierusalemme salutar si sente ! ,J 

The Palestine of the Bible — the Land of Promise to the 
Israelites, the land of Miracle and Sacrifice to the Apostles 
and their followers — still slept in the unattainable distance, 
under a sky of bluer and more tranquil loveliness than that to 
whose cloudless vault I looked up. It lay as far and beautiful 
as it once seemed to the eye of childhood, and the swords of 
Seraphim kept profane feet from its sacred hills. But these 
rough rocks around me, these dry, fiery hollows, these thickets 
of ancient oak and ilex, had heard the trumpets of the Middle 



TEE APPROACH TO THE HOLY CITY. 



57 



Ages, and the clang and clatter of European armor — I could 
feel and believe that. I entered the ranks ; I followed the 
trumpets and the holy hymns, and waited breathlessly for the 
moment when every mailed knee should drop in the dust, and 
every bearded and sunburned cheek be wet with devotional 
tears. 

But when I climbed the last ridge, and looked ahead with 
a sort of painful suspense, Jerusalem did not appear. We 
were two thousand feet above the Mediterranean, whose blue 
we could dimly see far to the west, through notches in the 
chain of hills. To the north, the mountains were gray, 
desolate, and awful. Not a shrub or a tree relieved their 
frightful barrenness. An upland tract, covered with white 
volcanic rock, lay before us. We met peasants with asses, who 
looked (to my eyes) as if they had just left Jerusalem. Still 
forward we urged our horses, and reached a ruined garden, 
surrounded with hedges of cactus, over which I saw domes 
and walls in the distance. I drew a long breath and looked at 
Francois. He was jogging along without turning his head ; 
he could not have been so indifferent if that was really the 
city. Presently, we reached another slight rise in the rocky 
plain. He began to urge his panting horse, and at the same 
instant we both lashed the spirit into ours, dashed on at a 
break-neck gallop, round the corner of an old wall on the top 
of the hill, and lo ! the Holy City ! Our Greek jerked both 
pistols from his holsters, and fired them into the air, as we 
reined up on the steep. 

From the descriptions of travellers, I had expected to see in 
Jerusalem an ordinary modern Turkish town ; but that before 
me, with its walls, fortresses, and domes, was it not still the 

3* 



58 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



City of David ? I saw the Jerusalem of the New Testament, 
as I had imagined it. Long lines of walls crowned with a 
notched parapet and strengthened by towers; a few domes and 
spires above them; clusters of cypress here and there; this 
was all that was visible of the city. On either side the hill 
sloped down to the two deep valleys over which it hangs. On 
the east, the Mount of Olives, crowned with a chapel and 
mosque, rose high and steep, but in front, the eye passed 
directly over the city, to rest far away upon the lofty moun- 
tains of Moab, beyond the Dead Sea. The scene was grand in 
its simplicity. The prominent colors were the purple of those 
distant mountains, and the hoary gray of the nearer hills. The 
walls were of the dull yellow of weather-stained marble, and 
the only trees, the dark cypress and moonlit olive. Now, 
indeed, for one brief moment, I knew that I was in Palestine ; 
that I saw Mount Olivet and Mount Zion; and — I know not 
how it was — my sight grew weak, and all objects trembled and 
wavered in a watery film. Since we arrived, I have looked 
clown upon the city from the Mount of Olives, and up to it 
from the Yalley of Jehosaphat; but I cannot restore the 
illusion of that first view. 

We allowed our horses to walk slowly down the remaining 
half-mile to the Jaffa gate. An Englishman, with a red silk 
shawl over his head, was sketching the city, while an Arab 
held an umbrella over him. Inside the gate we stumbled upon 
an Italian shop with an Italian sign, and after threading a 
number of intricate passages under dark archways, and being 
turned off from one hotel, which was full of travellers, reached 
another, kept by a converted German Jew, where we found Dr. 
Robinson and Dr. Ely Smith, who both arrived yesterday. It 



JERUSALEM. 



59 



sounds strange to talk of a hotel in Jerusalem, but the world 
is progressing, and there are already three. I leave to-mor- 
row for Jericho, the Jordan, and the Dead Sea, and shall have 
more to say of J erusalem on my return. 



60 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE DEAD SEA AND THE RIVER JORDAN. 

Bargaining for a Guard— Departure from Jerusalem— The Hill of Offence— Bethany— 
The Grotto of Lazarus— The Valley of Fire— Scenery of the Wilderness— The Hills of 
Engaddi — The shore of the Dead Sea — A Bituminous Bath — Gallop to the Jordan— 
A watch for Robbers — The Jordan — Baptism— The Plains of Jericho — The Fountain 
of Elisha — The Mount of Temptation — Return to Jerusalem. 

" And the spoiler shall come upon every city, and no city shall escape ; the valley 
also shall perish and the plain shall be destroyed, as the Lord hath spoken." — 
Jeremiah, xlviii. 8. 

Jeeusalem, May 1, 1852. 

I returned this afternoon from an excursion to the Dead Sea, 
the River Jordan, and the site of Jericho. Owing to the 
approaching heats, an early visit was deemed desirable, and the 
shekhs, who have charge of the road, were summoned to meet 
us on the day after we arrived. There are two of these 
gentlemen, the Shekh el- Arab (of the Bedouins), and the 
Shekh el-Fellaheen (of the peasants, or husbandmen), to whom 
each traveller is obliged to pay one hundered piastres for an 
escort. It is, in fact, a sort of compromise, by which the 
shekhs agree not to rob the traveller, and to protect him 
against other shekhs. If the road is not actually safe, the 
Turkish garrison here is a mere farce, but the arrangement is 
winked at by the Pasha, who, of course, gets his share of the 



DEPARTURE FROM JERUSALEM. 



61 



100,000 piastres which the two scamps yearly levy upon 
travellers. The shekhs came to our rooms, and after trying to 
postpone our departure, in order to attach other tourists to the 
same escort, and thus save a little expense, took half the pay 
and agreed to be ready the next morning. Unfortunately for 
my original plan, the Convent of San Saba has been closed 
within two or three weeks, and no stranger is now admitted. 
This unusual step was caused by the disorderly conduct of some 
Frenchmen who visited San Saba. We sent to the Bishop of 
the Greek Church, asking a simple permission to view the 
interior of the Convent; but without effect. 

We left the city yesterday morning by St. Stephen's Gate, 
descended to the Valley of Jehosaphat, rode under the stone 
wall which encloses the supposed Gethsemane, and took a path 
leading along the Mount of Olives, towards the Hill of 
Offence, which stands over against the southern end of the city, 
opposite the mouth of the Vale of Hinnon. Neither of the 
shekhs made his appearance, but sent in their stead three 
Arabs, two of whom were mounted and armed with sabres and 
long guns. Our man, Mustapha, had charge of the baggage- 
mule, carrying our tent and the provisions for the trip. It was 
a dull, sultry morning ; a dark, leaden haze hung over Jerusa- 
lem, and the khamseen, or sirocco-wind, came from the south- 
west, out of the Arabian Desert. We had again resumed the 
Oriental costume, but in spite of an ample turban, my face 
soon began to scorch in the dry heat. From the crest of the 
Hill of Offence there is a wide view over the heights on both 
sides of the valley of the Brook Kedron. Their sides are 
worked into terraces, now green with springing grain, and near 
the bottom planted with olive and fig trees. The upland ridge 



62 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



or watershed of Palestine is cultivated for a considerable 
distance around Jerusalem. The soil is light and stony, yet 
appears to yield a good return for the little labor bestowed 
upon it. 

Crossing the southern flank of Mount Olivet, in half an hour 
we reached the village of Bethany, hanging on the side of the 
hill. It is a miserable cluster of Arab huts, with not a building 
which appears to be more than a century old. The Grotto of 
Lazarus is here shown, and, of course, we stopped to see it. 
It belongs to an old Mussulman, who came out of his house with 
a piece of waxed rope, to light us down. An aperture opens 
from the roadside into the hill, and there is barely room enough 
for a person to enter. Descending about twenty steps at a 
sharp angle, we landed in a small, damp vault, with an opening 
in the floor, communicating with a short passage below. The 
vault was undoubtedly excavated for sepulchral purposes, and 
the bodies were probably deposited (as in many Egyptian 
tombs) in the pit under it. Our guide, however, pointed to a 
square mass of masonry in one corner as the tomb of Lazarus, 
whose body, he informed us, was still walled up there. There 
was an arch in the side of the vault, once leading to other 
chambers, but now closed up, and the guide stated that 
seventy-four Prophets were interred therein. There seems to 
be no doubt that the present Arab village occupies the site of 
Bethany ; and if it could be proved that this pit existed at the 
beginning of the Christian Era, and there never had been any 
other, we might accept it as the tomb of Lazarus. On the 
crest of a high hill, over against Bethany, is an Arab village on 
the site of Bethpage. 

We descended into the valley of a winter stream, now filled 



THE VALLEY OF FIRE. 



63 



with patches of sparse wheat, just beginning to ripen. The 
mountains grew more bleak and desolate as we advanced, and 
as there is a regular descent in the several ranges over which 
one must pass, the distant hills of the lands of Moab and 
Amnion were always in sight, rising like a high, blue wall 
against the sky. The Dead Sea is 4,000 feet below Jerusa- 
lem, but the general slope of the intervening district is so 
regular that from the spires of the city, and the Mount of 
Olives, one can look down directly upon its waters. This 
deceived me as to the actual distance, and I could scarcely 
credit the assertion of our Arab escort, that it would require 
six hours to reach it. After we had ridden nearly two hours, 
we left the Jericho road, sending Mustapha and a staunch old 
Arab direct to our resting-place for the night, in the Valley of 
the Jordan. The two mounted Bedouins accompanied us across 
the rugged mountains lying between us and the Dead Sea. 

At first, we took the way to the Convent of Mar Saba, fol- 
lowing the course of the Brook Kedron down the Wady 
en-JSTar (Yalley of Fire). In half an hour more we reached 
two large tanks, hewn out under the base of a limestone cliff, 
and nearly filled with rain. The surface was covered with a 
greenish vegetable scum, and three wild and dirty Arabs 
of the hills were washing themselves in the principal one 
Our Bedouins immediately dismounted and followed their 
example, and after we had taken some refreshment, we had 
the satisfaction of filling our water-jug from the same sweet 
pool. After this, we left the San Saba road, and mounted the 
height east of the valley. From that point, all signs of culti- 
vation and habitation disappeared. The mountains were grim, 
bare, and frightfully rugged. The scanty grass, coaxed into life 



64 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



by the winter rains, was already scorched out of all greenness; 
some bunches of wild sage, gnaphalium, and other hardy aro- 
matic herbs spotted the yellow soil, and in sheltered places the 
scarlet poppies burned like coals of fire among the rifts of the 
gray limestone rock. Our track kept along the higher 
ridges and crests of the hills, between the glens and gorges 
which sank on either hand to a dizzy depth below, and were 
so steep as to be almost inaccessible. The region is so 
scarred, gashed and torn, that no work of man's hand can 
save it from perpetual desolation. It is a wilderness more 
hopeless than the Desert. If I were left alone in the midst 
of it, I should lie down and await death, without thought or 
hope of rescue. 

The character of the day was peculiarly suited to enhance 
the impression of such scenery. Though there were no clouds, 
the sun was invisible : as far as we could see, beyond the J or- 
dan, and away southward to the mountains of Moab and 
the cliffs of Engaddi, the whole country was covered as with 
the smoke of a furnace ; and the furious sirocco, that threat- 
ened to topple us down the gulfs yawning on either hand, had 
no coolness on its wings. The horses were sure-footed, but 
now and then a gust would come that made them and us 
strain against it, to avoid being dashed against the rock on 
one side, or hurled off the brink on the other. The atmos- 
phere was painfully oppressive, and by and by a dogged 
silence took possession of our party. After passing a lofty 
peak which Francois called Djebel ISTuttar, the Mountain 
of Rain, we came to a large Moslem building, situated on 
a bleak eminence, overlooking part of the valley of the Jordan. 
This is the tomb called Xebbee Moussa by the Arabs, and 



THE SHORE OF THE DEAD SEA, 



65 



believed by them to stand upon the spot where Moses died. 
We halted at the gate, but no one came to admit us, though 
my companion thought he saw a man's head at one of the aper- 
tures in the wall. Arab tradition here is as much at fault as 
Christian tradition in many other places. The true Nebo is 
somewhere in the chain of Pisgah; and though, probably, 
I saw it, and all see it who go down to the Jordan, yet " no 
man knoweth its place unto this day." 

Beyond ISTebbee Moussa, we came out upon the last heights 
overlooking the Dead Sea, though several miles of low 
hills remained to be passed. The head of the sea was visible 
as far as the Ras-el-Feshka on the west, and the hot fountains 
of Callirhoe on the eastern shore. Farther than this, all was 
vapor and darkness. The water was a soft, deep purple hue, 
brightening into blue. Our road led down what seemed a vast 
sloping causeway from the mountains, between two ravines, 
walled by cliffs several hundred feet in height. It gradually 
flattened into a plain, covered with a white, saline incrus- 
tation, and grown with clumps of sour willow, tamarisk, and 
other shrubs, among which I looked in vain for the osher, or 
Dead Sea apple. The plants appeared as if smitten with 
leprosy; but there were some flowers growing almost to the 
margin of the sea. We reached the shore about 2 p. m. 
The heat by this time was most severe, and the air so dense as 
to occasion pains in my ears. The Dead Sea is 1,300 feet 
below the Mediterranean, and without doubt the lowest part 
of the earth's surface. I attribute the oppression I felt to this 
fact and to the sultriness of the day, rather than to any exha- 
lation from the sea itself. Francois remarked, however, that 
had the wind — which by this time was veering round to 



66 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the north-east — blown from the south, we could scarcely have 
endured it. The sea resembles a great cauldron, sunk between 
mountains from three to four thousand feet in height ; and pro- 
bably we did not experience more than a tithe of the summer 
heat. 

I proposed a bath, for the sake of experiment, but Francois 
endeavored to dissuade us. He had tried it, and nothing 
could be more disagreeable ; we risked getting a fever, 
and, besides, there were four hours of dangerous travel yet 
before us. But by this time we were half undressed, and 
soon were floating on the clear bituminous waves. The beach 
was fine gravel and shelved gradually down. I kept my 
turban on my head, and was careful to avoid touching the 
water with my face. The sea was moderately warm and 
gratefully soft and soothing to the skin. It was impossible to 
sink ; and even while swimming, the body rose half out of the 
water. I should think it possible to dive for a short distance, 
but prefer that some one else would try the experiment. 
With a log of wood for a pillow, one might sleep as on one of 
the patent mattresses. The taste of the water is salty and 
pungent, and stings the tongue like saltpetre. We were 
obliged to dress in all haste, without even wiping off the 
detestable liquid ; yet I experienced very little of that dis- 
comfort which most travellers have remarked. Where the 
skin had been previously bruised, there was a slight smarting 
sensation, aud my body felt clammy and glutinous, but the 
bath was rather refreshing than otherwise. 

We turned our horses' heads towards the Jordan, and rode 
on over a dry, barren plain. The two Bedouins at first 
clashed ahead at all gallop, uttering cries, and whirling their 



A WATCH FOR ROBBERS. 



6T 



long guns in the air. The dust they raised was blown in our 
faces, and contained so much salt that my eyes began to smart 
painfully. Thereupon I followed them at an equal rate of speed, 
and we left a long cloud of the accursed soil whirling behind 
us. Presently, however, they fell to the rear, and continued to 
keep at some distance from us. The reason of this was soon 
explained. The path turned eastward, and we already saw a 
line of dusky green winding through the wilderness. This was 
the Jordan, and the mountains beyond, the home of robber 
Arabs, were close at hand. Those robbers frequently cross 
the river and conceal themselves behind the sand-hills on this 
side. Our brave escort was, therefore, inclined to put us for- 
ward as a forlorn-hope, and secure their own retreat in case of 
an attack. But as we were all well armed, and had never consi- 
dered their attendance as anything more than a genteel way 
of buying them off from robbing us, we allowed them to lag as 
much as they chose. Finally, as we approached the Pilgrims' 
Ford, one of them took his station at some distance from the 
river, on the top of a mound, while the other got behind some 
trees near at hand ; in order, as they said, to watch the oppo- 
site hills, and alarm us whenever they should see any of the 
Beni Sukrs, or the Beni Adwams, or the Tyakh, coming down 
upon us. 

The Jordan at this point will not average more than ten 
yards in breadth. It flows at the bottom of a gully about fif 
teen feet deep, which traverses the broad valley in a most tor- 
tuous course. The water has a white, clayey hue, and is very - 
swift. The changes of the current have formed islands and 
beds of soil here and there, which are covered with a dense 
growth of ash, poplar, willow, and tamarisk trees. The banks 



6S 



THE LANDS OF TEE SARACEN, 



of the river are bordered with thickets, now overgrown with 
wild vines, and fragrant with flowering plants. Birds sing 
continually in the cool, dark coverts of the trees. I found a 
singular charm in the wild, lonely, luxuriant banks, the tangled 
undergrowth, and the rapid, brawling course of the sacred 
stream, as it slipped in sight and out of sight among the trees. 
It is almost impossible to reach the water at any other 
point than the Ford of the Pilgrims, the supposed locality 
of the passage of the Israelites and the baptism of Christ. 
The plain near it is still blackened by the camp-fires of the ten 
thousand pilgrims who went down from Jerusalem three weeks 
ago, to bathe. We tied our horses to the trees, and prepared 
to follow their example, which was necessary, if only to wash off 
the iniquitous slime of the Dead Sea. Frangois, in the mean- 
time, filled two tin flasks from the stream and stowed them in 
the saddle-bags. The current was so swift, that one could not 
venture far without the risk of being carried away ; but I suc- 
ceeded in obtaining a complete and most refreshing immersion. 
The taint of Gomorrah was not entirely washed away, but I 
rode off with as great a sense of relief as if the baptism had 
been a moral one, as well, and had purified me from sin. 

We rode for nearly two hours, in a north-west direction, to 
the Bedouin village of Rihah, near the site of ancient Jericho. 
Before reaching it, the gray salt waste vanishes, and the soil is 
covered with grass and herbs. The barren character of the 
first region is evidently owing to deposits from the vapors of 
the Dea Sea, as they are blown over the plain by the south 
wind. The channels of streams around Jericho are filled with 
nebbuk trees, the fruit of which is just ripening. It is appa- 
rently indigenous, and grows more luxuriantly than on the 



CAMP AT JERICHO, 



69 



White Nile. It is a variety of the rhamnus, and is set down 
by botanists as the Spina Christi, of which the Saviour's mock 
crown of thorns was made. I see no reason to doubt this, as 
the twigs are long and pliant, and armed with small, though 
most cruel, thorns. I had to pay for gathering some of the 
fruit, with a torn dress and bleeding fingers. The little apples 
which it bears are slightly acid and excellent for alleviating 
thirst, I also noticed on the plain a variety of the night- 
shade, with large berries of a golden color. The spring 
flowers, so plentiful now in all other parts of Palestine, have 
already disappeared from the Yalley of the Jordan. 

Rihah is a vile little village of tents and mud-huts, and the 
only relic of antiquity near it is a square tower, which may 
possibly be of the time of Herod. There are a few gardens 
in the place, and a grove of superb fig-trees. We found 
our tent already pitched beside a rill which issues from the 
Fountain of Elisha. The evening was very sultry, and the 
musquitoes gave us no rest. We purchased some milk from 
an old man who came to the tent, but such was his mistrust 
of us that he refused to let us keep the earthen vessel contain- 
ing it until morning. As we had already paid the money to 
his son, we would not let him take the milk away until he had 
brought the money back. He then took a dagger from his 
waist and threw it before us as security, while he carried off 
the vessel and returned the price. I have frequently seen the 
same mistrustful spirit exhibited in Egypt. Our two Bedouins, 
to whom I gave some tobacco in the evening, manifested their 
gratitude by stealing the remainder of our stock during the 
night. % 

This morning we followed the stream to its source, the 



10 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Fountain of Elisha, so called as being probably that healed by 
the Prophet. If so, the healing was scarcely complete. The 
water, which gushes up strong and free at the foot of a rocky 
mound, is warm and slightly brackish. It spreads into a 
shallow pool, shaded by a fine sycamore tree. Just below, 
there are some remains of old walls on both sides, and the 
stream goes roaring away through a rank jungle of canes 
fifteen feet in height. The precise site of Jericho, I believe, 
has not been fixed, but " the city of the palm trees," as it was 
called, was probably on the plain, near some mounds which rise 
behind the Fountain. Here there are occasional traces of 
foundation walls, but so ruined as to give no clue to the date 
of their erection. Further towards the mountain there are 
some arches, which appear to be Saracenic. As we ascended 
again into the hill-country, I observed several traces of cisterns 
in the bottoms of ravines, which collect the rains. Herod, as 
is well known, built many such cisterns near Jericho, where he 
had a palace. On the first crest, to which we climbed, there is 
part of a Roman tower yet standing. The view, looking back 
over the valley of Jordan, is magnificent, extending from the 
Dead Sea to the mountains of Gileacl, beyond the country of 
Ammon. I thought I could trace the point where the River 
Yabbok comes down from Mizpeh of Gfilead to join the Jordan. 

The wilderness we now entered was fully as barren, but less 
rugged than that through which we passed yesterday. The 
path ascended along the brink of a deep gorge, at the bottom of 
which a little stream foamed over the rocks. The high, bleak 
summits towards which we were climbing, are considered by 
some Biblical geographers to be Mount Quarantana, the scene 
of Christ's fasting and temptation. After two hours we 



RETURN TO JERUSALEM. 



n 



reached the ruins of a large khan or hostlery, under one of the 
peaks, which Frangois stated to be the veritable " high moun- 
tain " whence the Devil pointed out all the kingdoms of the 
earth. There is a cave in the rock beside the road, which the 
superstitious look upon as the orifice out of which his Satanic 
Majesty issued. We met large numbers of Arab families, with 
their flocks, descending from the mountains to take up their 
summer residence near the Jordan.* They were all on foot, 
except the young children and goats, which were stowed 
together on the backs of donkeys. The men were armed, and 
appeared to be of the same tribe as our escort, with whom they 
had a good understanding. 

The morning was cold and cloudy, and we hurried on over 
the hills to a fountain in the valley of the Brook Kedron, 
where we breakfasted. Before we had reached Bethany a rain 
came down, and the sky hung dark and lowering over Jerusa- 
lem, as we passed the crest of Mount Olivet. It still rains, 
and the filthy condition of the city exceeds anything I have 
seen, even in the Orient. 



12 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE CITY OF CHRIST. 

Modern Jerusalem— The Site of the City— Mount Zion— Mount Moriah— The Tempfe— 
The Yalley of Jehosaphat — The Olives of G-ethsemane — The Mount of Olives — Moslem 
Tradition — Panorama from the Summit — The Interior of the City — The Population — 
Missions and Missionaries — Christianity in Jerusalem — Intolerance — The Jews of 
Jerusalem— The Face of Christ— The Church of the Holy Sepulchre— The Holy of 
Holies — The Sacred Localities — Yisions of Christ — The Mosque of Omar — The Holy 
Man of Timbuctoo — Preparations for Departure. 

" Cut off thy hair, Jerusalem, and cast it away, and take up a lamentation in high 
places; for the Lord hath rejected and forsaken the generation of his wrath." — 
Jeremiah vii. 29. 



" Here pilgrims roam, that strayed so far to seek 
In Grolgotha him dead, who lives in Heaven." 

Milton. 

Jerusalem, Monday, May 3, 1S51. 

Since travel is becoming a necessary part of education, and 
a journey through the East is no longer attended with personal 
risk, Jerusalem will soon be as familiar a station on the grand 
tour as Paris or Naples. The task of describing it is already 
next to superfluous, so thoroughly has the topography of the 
city been laid down by the surveys of Robinson and the 
drawings of Roberts. There is little more left for Biblical 
research. The few places which can be authenticated are 
now generally accepted, and the many doubtful ones must 
always be the subjects of speculation and conjecture. There 



MODERN JERUSALEM, 



13 



is no new light which can remove the cloud of uncertainties 
wherein one continually wanders. Yet, even rejecting all 
these with the most skeptical spirit, there still remains enough 
to make the place sacred in the eyes of every follower of 
Christ. The city stands on the ancient site ; the Mount of 
Olives looks down upon it ; the foundations of the Temple of 
Solomon are on Mount Moriah ; the Pool of Siloam has still 
a cup of water for those who at noontide go down to the 
Valley of Jehosaphat ; the ancient gate yet looketh towards 
Damascus, and of the Palace of Herod, there is a tower which 
Time and Turk and Crusader have spared. 

Jerusalem is built on the summit ridge of the hill-country 
of Palestine, just where it begins to slope eastward. Not 
half a mile from the Jaffa Gate, the waters run towards the 
Mediterranean. It is about 2,700 feet above the latter, and 
4,000 feet above the Dead Sea, to which the descent is much 
more abrupt. The hill, or rather group of small mounts, on 
which Jerusalem stands, slants eastward to the brink of the 
Yalley of Jehosaphat, and the Mount of Olives rises opposite, 
from the sides and summit of which, one sees the entire city 
spread out like a map before him. The Yalley of Hinnon, 
the bed of which is on a much higher level than that of 
Jehosaphat, skirts the south-western and southern part of the 
walls, and drops into the latter valley at the foot of Mount 
Zion, the most southern of the mounts. The steep slope at 
the junction of the two valleys is the site of the city of 
the Jebusites, the most ancient part of Jerusalem. It is 
now covered with garden-terraces, the present wall crossing 
from Mount Zion on the south to Mount Moriah on the east. 
A. little glen, anciently called the Tyropeon, divides the 

4 



74 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

V 

mounts, and winds through to the Damascus Gate, on the 
north, though from the height of the walls and the position 
of the city, the depression which it causes in the mass of 
buildings is not very perceptible, except from the latter point. 
Moriah is the lowest of the mounts, and hangs directly over 
the Talley of Jehosaphat. Its summit was built up by 
Solomon so as to form a quadrangular terrace, five hundred 
by three hundred yards in dimension. The lower courses of 
the grand wall, composed of huge blocks of gray conglomerate 
limestone, still remain, and there seems to be no doubt that 
they are of the time of Solomon. Some of the stones are of 
enormous size ; I noticed several which were fifteen, and one 
twenty-two feet in length. The upper part of the wall was 
restored by Sultan Selim, the conqueror of Egypt, and the 
level of the terrace now supports the great Mosque of Omar, 
which stands on the very site of the temple. Except these 
foundation walls, the Damascus Gate and the Tower of 
Hippicus, there is nothing left of the ancient city. The 
length of the present wall of circumference is about two miles, 
but the circuit of Jerusalem, in the time of Herod, was 
probably double that distance. 

The best views of the city are from the Mount of Olives, 
and the hill north of it, whence Titus directed the siege which 
resulted in its total destruction. The Crusaders under God 
frey of Bouillon encamped on the same hill. My first walk 
after reaching here, was to the summit of the Mount of Olives. 
Not far from the hotel we came upon the Yia Dolorosa, up 
which, according to Catholic tradition, Christ toiled with the 
cross upon his shoulders. I found it utterly impossible to 
imagine that I was walking in the same path, and preferred 



THE VALLEY OF JEHOSAFHAT, 



75 



doubting the tradition. An arch is built across the street at 
the spot where they say he was shown to the populace, 
(Ecce Homo.) The passage is steep and rough, descending to 
St. Stephen's Gate by the Governor's Palace, which stands on 
the site of the house of Pontius Pilate, Here, in the wall 
forming the northern part of the foundation of the temple, 
there are some very fine remains of ancient workmanship. 
Prom the city wall, the ground descends abruptly to the 
Yalley of Jehosaphat. The Turkish residents have their 
tombs on the city side, just under the terrace of the mosque, 
while thousands of Jews find .a peculiar beatitude in having 
themselves interred on the opposite slope of the Mount of 
Olives, which is in some places quite covered with their 
crumbling tombstones. The bed of the Brook Kedron is now 
dry and stony. A sort of chapel, built in the bottom of the 
valley, is supposed by the Greeks to cover the tomb of the 
Yirgin — a claim which the Latins consider absurd. Near this, 
at the very foot of the Mount of Olives, the latter sect have 
lately built a high stone wall around the Garden of Gethse- 
mane, for the purpose, apparently, of protecting the five aged 
olives. I am ignorant of the grounds wherefore Gethsemane 
is placed here. Most travellers have given their faith to the 
spot, but Dr. Robinson, who is more reliable than any amount 
of mere tradition, does not coincide with them. The trees do 
not appear as ancient as some of those at the foot of Mount 
Carmel, which are supposed to date from the Roman colony 
established by Titus. Moreover, it is well known that at the 
time of the taking of Jerusalem by that Emperor, ail 
the trees, for many miles around, were destroyed. The 
olive-trees, therefore, cannot be those under which Chrisi 



76 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



rested, even supposing this to be the true site of Geth- 
seniane. 

The Mount of Olives is a steep and rugged hill, dominating 
over the city and the surrounding heights. It is still covered 
with olive orchards, and planted with patches of grain, which 
do not thrive well on the stony soil. - On the summit is a 
mosque, with a minaret attached, which affords a grand pano- 
ramic view. As we reached it, the Chief of the College of 
Dervishes, in the court of the Mosque of Omar, came out with 
a number of attendants. He saluted us courteously, which 
would not have been the case had he been the Superior of the 
Latin Convent, and we Greek Monks. There were some 
Turkish ladies in the interior of the mosque, so that we could 
not gain admittance, and therefore did not see the rock con- 
taining the foot-prints of Christ, who, according to Moslem 
tradition, ascended to heaven from this spot. The Mohamme- 
dans, it may not be generally known, accept the history of 
Christ, except his crucifixion, believing that he passed to 
heaven without death, another person being crucified in his 
stead. They call him the Rok-Allak, or Spirit of God, 
and consider him, after Mahomet, as the holiest of the 
Prophets. 

We ascended to the gallery of the minaret. The city lay 
opposite, so fairly spread out to our view that almost every 
rouse might be separately distinguished. It is a mass of gray 
bniV />, with dome-roofs, and but for the mosques of Omar 
and fill Aksa, with the courts and galleries around them, would 
be exceedingly tame in appearance. The only other prominent 
points are the towers of the Holy Sepulchre, the citadel, 
enclosing Herod's Tower, and the mosque on mount Zion. The 



A SACRED PANORAMA. 



77 



Turkish wall, with its sharp angles, its square bastions, and 
the long, embrasured lines of its parapet, is the most striking 
feature of the view. Stony hills stretch away from the city 
on all sides, at present cheered with tracts of springing wheat, 
but later in the season, brown and desolate. In the south, the 
convent of St. Elias is visible, and part of the little town of 
Bethlehem. I passed to the eastern side of the gallery, and 
looking thence, deep down among the sterile mountains, beheld 
a long sheet of blue water, its southern extremity vanishing in 
a hot, sulphury haze. The mountains of Ammon and Moab, 
which formed the back-ground of my first view of Jerusalem, 
leaned like a vast wall against the sky, beyond the mysterious 
sea and the broad valley of the Jordan. The great depression 
of this valley below the level of the Mediterranean gives it a 
most remarkable character. It appears even deeper than is 
actually the case, and resembles an enormous chasm or moat, 
separating two different regions of the earth. The khamseen 
was blowing from the south, from out the deserts of Edom, 
and threw its veil of fiery vapor over the landscape. The 
muezzin pointed out to me the location of Jericho, of Kerak 
in Moab, and Es-Salt in the country of Ammon. Ere long 
the shadow of the minaret denoted noon, and, placing his 
hands on both sides of his mouth, he cried out, first on the 
South side, towards Mecca, and then to the West, and North, 
and East : " God is great : there is no God but God, and 
Mohammed is His Prophet! Let us prostrate ourselves before 
Him : and to Him alone be the glory !" 

Jerusalem, internally, gives no impression but that of filth, 
ruin, poverty, and degradation. There are two or three 
streets in the western or higher portion of the city which are 



T8 



THE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN. 



tolerably clean, but all the others, to the very gates of the 
Holy Sepulchre, are channels of pestilence. The Jewish Quar- 
ter, which is the largest, so sickened and disgusted nie, that I 
should rather go the whole round of the city walls than pass 
through it a second time. The bazaars are poor, compared 
with those of other Oriental cities of the same size, and the 
principal trade seems to be in rosaries, both Turkish and Chris- 
tian, crosses, seals, amulets, and pieces of the Holy Sepulchre. 
The population, which may possibly reach 20,000, is apparently 
Jewish, for the most part ; at least, I haye been principally 
struck with the Hebrew face, in my walks. The number of 
Jews has increased considerably within a few years, and there 
is also quite a number who, haying been conyerted to Pro- 
testantism, were brought hither at the expense of English 
missionary societies for the purpose of forming a Protestant 
community. Two of the hotels are kept by families of this 
class. It is estimated that each member of the community has 
cost the Mission about £4,500 : a sum which would haye 
Christianized tenfold the number of English heathen. The 
Mission, howeyer, is kept up by its patrons, as a sort of religi- 
ous luxury. The English haye lately built a yery handsome 
church within the walls, and the Key. Dr. Gobat, well known 
by his missionary labors in Abyssinia, now has the title of 
Bishop of Jerusalem. A friend of his in Central Africa gaye 
me a letter of introduction for him, and I am quite disap- 
pointed in finding him absent. Dr. Barclay, of Virginia, a 
most worthy man in eyery respect, is at the head of the Ame- 
rican Mission here. There is, besides, what is called the 
" American Colony/' at the yillage of Artos, near Bethlehem : 
a little community of religious enthusiasts, whose experiments 



CHRISTIANITY IX JERUSALEM. 



T9 



in cultivation have met with remarkable success, and are much 
spoken of at present. 

Whatever good the various missions here may, in time, 
accomplish (at present, it does not amount to much), Jerusa- 
lem is the last place in the world where an intelligent heathen 
would be coii verted to Christianity. Were I cast here, igno- 
rant of any religion, and were I to compare the lives and 
practices of the different sects as the means of making my 
choice — in short, to judge of each faith by the conduct of its 
professors — I should at once turn Mussulman. When you 
consider that in the Holy Sepulchre there are nineteen chapels, 
each belonging to a different sect, calling itself Christian, and 
that a Turkish police is always stationed there to prevent the 
bloody quarrels which often ensue between them, you may 
judge how those who call themselves followers of the Prince 
of Peace practice the pure faith he sought to establish. 
Between the Greek and Latin churches, especially, there is a 
deadly feud, and their contentions are a scandal, not only to 
the few Christians here, but to the Moslems themselves. I 
believe there is a sort of truce at present, owing to the settle- 
ment of some of the disputes — as, for instance, the restoration 
of the silver star, which the Greeks stole from the shrine of 
the Nativity, at Bethlehem. The Latins, however, not long 
since, demolished, vi et armis, a chapel which the Greeks com- 
menced building on Mount Zion. But, if the employment of 
material weapons has been abandoned for the time, there is 
none the less a war of words and of sounds still going on. Go 
into the Holy Sepulchre, when mass is being celebrated, and 
you can scarcely endure the din. No sooner does the Greek 
choir begin its shrill chant, than the Latins fly to the assault. 



80 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



They have an organ, and terribly does that organ strain its 
bellows and labor its pipes to drown the rival singing. You 
think the Latins will carry the day, when suddenly the cymbals 
of the Abyssinians strike in with harsh brazen clang, and, for 
the moment, triumph. Then there are Copts, and Maronites, 
and Armenians, and I know not how many other sects, who 
must have their share ; and the service that should be a many- 
toned harmony pervaded by one grand spirit of devotion, 
becomes a discorcfant orgie, befitting the rites of Belial. 

A long time ago — I do not know the precise number of 
years — the Sultan granted a firman, in answer to the applica- 
tion of both Jews and Christians, allowing the members of 
each sect to put to death any person belonging to the other 
sect, who should be found inside of their churches or syna- 
gogues. The firman has never been recalled, though in every 
place but Jerusalem it remains a dead letter. Here, although 
the Jews freely permit Christians to enter their synagogue, a 
Jew who should enter the Holy Sepulchre would be lucky if 
he escaped with his life. Not long since, an English gentle- 
man, who was taken by the monks for a Jew, was so severely 
beaten that he was confined to his bed for two months. What 
worse than scandal, what abomination, that the spot looked 
upon by so many Christians as the most awfully sacred on 
earth, should be the scene of such brutish intolerance ! I 
never pass the group of Turkish officers, quietly smoking their 
long pipes and sipping their coffee within the vestibule of the 
Church, without a feeling of humiliation. Worse than the 
money-changers whom Christ scourged out of the Temple, the 
guardians of this edifice make use of His crucifixion and 
resurrection as a means of gain. You may buy a piece of the 



THE JEWS 0^ JERUSALEM. 



81 



stone covering the Holy Sepulchre, duly certified by the 
Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem, for about $T. At Bethlehem, 
which I visited this morning, the Latin monk who showed us 
the manger, the pit where 12,000 innocents were buried, and 
other things, had much less to say of the sacredness or authen- 
ticity of the place, than of the injustice of allowing the Greeks 
a share in its possession. 

The native Jewish families in Jerusalem, as well as those 
in other parts of Palestine, present a marked difference to the 
Jews of Europe and America. They possess the same physi- 
cal characteristics — the dark, oblong eye, the prominent nose, 
the strongly-marked cheek and jaw — but in the latter, these 
traits have become harsh and coarse. Centuries devoted to 
the lowest and most debasing forms of traffic, with the endu- 
rance of persecution and contumely, have greatly changed and 
vulgarized the appearance of the race. But the Jews of the 
Holy City still retain a noble beauty, which proved to my 
mind their descent from the ancient princely houses of Israel. 
The forehead is loftier, the eye larger and more frank in its 
expression, the nose more delicate in its prominence, and the 
face a purer oval. I have remarked the same distinction in 
the countenances of those Jewish families of Europe, whose 
members have devoted themselves to Art or Literature. 
Mendelssohn's was a face that might have belonged to the 
House of David. 

On the evening of my arrival in the city, as I set out to 
walk through the bazaars, I encountered a native Jew, whose 
face will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was sauntering 
slowly along, asking myself "Is this Jerusalem?" when, 
lifting my eyes, they met those of Christ ! It was the very 

4* 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



face which Raphael has painted — the traditional features of 
the Saviour, as they are recognised and accepted by all 
Christendom. The waving brown hair, partly hidden by a 
Jewish cap, fell clustering about the ears ; the face was the 
most perfect oval, and almost feminine in the purity of its 
outline ; the serene, child-like mouth was shaded with a light 
moustache, and a silky brown beard clothed the chin ; but the 
eyes — shall I ever look into such orbs again ? Large, dark, 
unfathomable, they beamed with an expression of divine love 
and divine sorrow, such as I never before saw in human face. 
The man had just emerged from a dark archway, and the 
golden glow of the sunset, reflected from a white wall above, 
fell upon his face. Perhaps it was this transfiguration which 
made his beauty so unearthly ; but, during the moment that 
I saw him, he was to me a revelation of the Saviour. There 
are still miracles in the Land of Judah. As the dusk gathered 
in the deep streets, I could see nothing but the ineffable 
sweetness and benignity of that countenance, and my friend 
was not a little astonished, if not shocked, when I said to him, 
with the earnestness of belief, on my return: "I have just 
seen Christ." 

I made the round of the Holy Sepulchre on Sunday, while 
the monks were celebrating the festival of the Invention of the 
Cross, in the chapel of the Empress Helena. As the finding 
of the cross by the Empress is almost the only authority for 
the places inclosed within the Holy Sepulchre, I went there 
inclined to doubt their authenticity, and came away with my 
doubt vastly strengthened. The building is a confused laby- 
rinth of chapels, choirs, shrines, staircases, and vaults — without 
any definite plan or any architectural beauty, though' very rich 



THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 83 

In parts and full of picturesque effects. Golden lamps con- 
tinually burn before the sacred places, and you rarely visit 
the church without seeing some procession of monks, with 
crosses, censers,* and tapers, threading the shadowy passages, 
from shrine to shrine It is astonishing how many localities 
are assembled under one roof. At first, you are shown the 
stone on which Christ rested from the burden of the cross ; 
then, the place where the soldiers cast lots for His garments, 
both of them adjoining the Sepulchre, After seeing this, you 
are taken to the Pillar of Flagellation ; the stocks ; the place 
of crowning with thorns ; the spot where He met His mother ; 
the cave where the Empress Helena found the cross ; and, 
lastly, the summit of Mount Calvary. The Sepulchre is a 
small marble building in the centre of the church. We removed 
our shoes at the entrance, and were taken by a Greek monk, 
first into a sort of ante-chamber, lighted with golden lamps, 
and having in the centre, inclosed in a case of marble, the 
stone on which the angel sat. Stooping through a low door, 
we entered the Sepulchre itself. Forty lamps of gold burn 
unceasingly above the white marble slab, which, as the monks 
say, protects the stone whereon the body of Christ was laid. 
As we again emerged, our guide led us up a flight of steps to 
a second story, in which stood a shrine, literally blazing with 
gold. Kneeling on the marble floor, he removed a golden 
shield, and showed us the hole in the rock of Calvary, where 
the cross was planted. Close beside it was the fissure pro- 
duced by the earthquake which followed the Crucifixion. But, 
to my eyes, aided by the light of the dim wax taper, it was no 
violent rupture, such as an earthquake would produce, and the 
rock did not appear to be the same as that of which J erusalern 



84 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



is built. As we turned to leave, a monk appeared with a bowl 
of sacred rose-water, which he sprinkled on our hands, bestowing 
a double portion on a rosary of sandal-wood which I carried. 
But it was a Mohammedan rosary, brought from Mecca, and 
containing the sacred number of ninety-nine beads. 

I have not space here to state all the arguments for and 
against the localities in the Holy Sepulchre. I came to the 
conclusion that none of them were authentic, and am glad to 
have the concurrence of such distinguished authority as Dr. 
Robinson. So far from this being a matter of regret, I, for 
one, rejoice that those sacred spots are lost to the world. 
Christianity does not need them, and they are spared a daily 
profanation in the name of religion. We know that Christ has 
walked on the Mount of Olives, and gone down to the Pool of 
Siloam, and tarried in Bethany; we know that here, within 
the circuit of our vision, He has suffered agony and death, and 
that from this little point went out all the light that has made 
the world greater and happier and better in its later than in 
its earlier days. 

Yet, I must frankly confess, in wandering through this city 
— revered alike by Christians, Jews and Turks as one of the 
holiest in the world — I have been reminded of Christ, the 
Man, rather than of Christ, the God. In the glory which 
overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never 
come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed 
sites. As I toiled up the Mount of Olives, in the very foot- 
steps of Christ, panting with the heat and the difficult ascent, 
I found it utterly impossible to conceive that the Deity, in 
human form, had walked there before me. And even at night, 
as I walk on the terraced roof, while the moon, "the balmy 



VISIONS OF CHRIST. 



85 



moon of blessed Israel," restores the Jerusalem of olden days 
to my imagination, the Saviour who then haunts my thoughts 
is the Man Jesus, in those moments of trial when He felt the 
weaknesses of our common humanity ; in that agony of struggle 
in the garden of Gethsemane, in that still more bitter cry of 
human doubt and human appeal from the cross : "My God, 
my God, why hast Thou forsaken me I" Yet there is no 
reproach for this conception of the character of Christ. 
Better the divinely-inspired Man, the purest and most perfect 
of His race, the pattern and type of all that is good and holy 
in Humanity, than the Deity for whose intercession we pray, 
while we trample His teachings under our feet. It would be 
well for many Christian sects, did they keep more constantly 
before their eyes the sublime humanity of Christ. How much 
bitter intolerance and persecution might be spared the world, 
if, instead of simply adoring Him as a Divine Mediator, they 
would strive to walk the ways He trod on earth. But Chris- 
tianity is still undeveloped, and there is yet no sect which 
represents its full and perfect spirit. 

It is my misfortune if I give offence by these remarks. I 
cannot assume emotions I do not feel, and must describe Jeru- 
salem as I found it. Since being here, I have read the 
accounts of several travellers, and in many cases the devotional 
rhapsodies- — the ecstacies of awe and reverence — in which they 
indulge, strike me as forced and effected. The pious writers 
have described what was expected of them, not what they 
found. It was partly from reading such accounts that my 
anticipations were raised too high, for the view of the city 
from the Jaffa road and the panorama from the Mount of Olives 
are the only things wherein I have been pleasantly disappointed, 



86 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



By far the most interesting relic left to the city is the foun- 
dation wall of Solomon's Temple. The Mosque of Omar, 
according to the accounts of the Turks, and Mr. Cather wood's 
examination, rests on immense vaults, which are believed to be 
the substructions of the Temple itself. Under the dome of the 
mosque there is a large mass of natural rock, revered by the 
Moslems as that from which Mahomet mounted the beast 
Borak when he visited the Seven Heavens, and believed by 
Mr. Catherwood to have served as part of the foundation of 
the Holy of Holies. So Christian is allowed to enter the 
mosque, or even its enclosure, on penalty of death, and even 
the firman of the Sultan has failed to obtain admission for a 
Frank. I have been strongly tempted to make the attempt in 
my Egyptian dress, which happens to resemble that of a 
mollah or Moslem priest, but the Dervishes in the adjoining 
college have sharp eyes, and my pronunciation of Arabic 
would betray me in case I was accosted. I even went so far 
as to buy a string of the large beads usually carried by a mol- 
lah, but unluckily I do not know the Moslem form of prayer, 
or I might carry out the plan under the guise of religious 
abstraction. This morning we succeeded in getting a nearer 
view of the mosque from the roof of the Governor's palace. 
Francois, by assuming the character of a Turkish caicass, 
gained us admission. The roof overlooks the entire enclosure 
of the Haram, and gives a complete view of the exterior of 
the mosque and the paved court surrounding it. There is no 
regularity in the style of the buildings in the enclosure, but the 
general effect is highly picturesque. The great dome of the 
mosque is the grandest in all the Orient, but the body of the 
edifice, made to resemble an octagonal tent, and covered with 



THE MOSQUE OF OMAR. 



81 



blue and white tiles, is not high enough to do it justice. The 
first court is paved with marble, and has four porticoes, each of 
five light Saracenic arches, opening into the green park, which 
occupies the rest of the terrace. This park is studded with 
cypress and fig trees, and dotted all over with the tombs of 
shekhs. As we were looking down on the spacious area, 
behold ! who should come along but Shekh Mohammed Senoo- 
see, the holy man of Timbuctoo, who had laid off his scarlet 
robe and donned a green one. I called down to him, where- 
upon he looked up and recognised us. For this reason I regret 
our departure from Jerusalem, as I am sure a little persuasion 
would induce the holy man to accompany me within the 
mosque. 

We leave to-morrow for Damascus, by way of Nazareth and 
Tiberius. My original plan was to have gone to Djerash, the 
ancient Geraza, in the land of Gilead, and thence to Bozrah, 
in Djebel Hauaran. But Djebel Adjeloun, as the country 
about Djerash is called, is under a powerful Bedouin shekh, 
named Abd-el Azeez, and without an escort from him, which 
involves considerable delay and a fee of $150, it would be 
impossible to make the journey. We are therefore restricted 
to the ordinary route, and in case we should meet with any 
difficulty by the way, Mr. Smith, the American Consul, who is 
now here, has kindly procured us a firman from the Pasha of 
Jerusalem. All the travellers here are making preparations to 
leave, but there are still two parties in the Desert. 



88 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE HILL- COUNTRY OF PALESTINE. 

Leaving Jerusalem— The Tombs of the Kings— El Bireh— The Hill- Country— First 
Yiew of Mount Hermon — The Tomb of Joseph — Ebal and G-erizim — The Gardens of 
Nablous— The Samaritans — The Sacred Book — A Scene in tie Synagogue — Mentor 
and Telemachus — Ride to Samaria — The Ruins of Sebaste — Scriptural Landscapes — 
Halt at Grenin— The Plain of Esdraelon— Palestine and California— The Hills of 
Nazareth — Accident — Fra Joachim — The Church of the Yirgin — The Shrine of the 
Annunciation — The Holy Places. 

" Blest land of Judea ! thrice halloaed of song, 
Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like throng: 
In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy sea, 
On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with thee S " 

J. Gr. Whittle r. 

Latin Content, Nazareth, Friday, May 7, 1S52. 

We left Jerusalem by the Jaffa Gate, because within a few 
months neither travellers nor baggage are allowed to pass the 
Damascus Gate, on account of smuggling operations having 
been carried on there. Not far from the city wall there is a 
superb terebinth tree, now in the full glory of its shining green 
leaves. It appears to be bathed in a perpetual dew ; the 
rounded masses of foliage sparkle and glitter in the light, and 
the great spreading boughs flood the turf below with a deluge 
of delicious shade. A number of persons were reclining on the 
grass under it, and one of them, a very handsome Christian 
boy, spoke to us in Italian and English. I scarcely remember 



THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS. 



89 



a brighter and purer day than that of our departure. The 

sky was a ,sheet of spotless blue ; every rift and scar of the 
distant hills was retouched with a firmer pencil, and all the 
outlines, blurred away by the haze of the previous few days, 
were restored with wonderful distinctness. The temperature 
was hot, but not sultry, and the air we breathed was an elixir 
of immortality. 

Through a luxuriant olive grove we reached the Tombs of 
the Kings, situated in a small valley to the north of the city. 
Part of the valley, if not the whole of it, has been formed by 
quarrying away the crags of marble and conglomerate lime- 
stone for building the city. Near the edge of the low cliffs 
overhanging it, there are some illustrations of the ancient mode 
of cutting stone, which, as well as the custom of excavating 
tombs in the rock, was evidently borrowed from Egypt. The 
upper surface of the rocks was first made smooth, after which 
the blocks were mapped out and cut apart by grooves chiselled 
between them. I visited four or five tombs, each of which 
had a sort of vestibule or open portico in front. The dooi 
was low, and the chambers which I entered, small and black, 
without sculptures of any kind. The tombs bear some resem- 
blance in their general plan to those of Thebes, except that 
they are without ornaments, either sculptured or painted. 
There are fragments of sarcophagi in some of them. On the 
southern side of the valley is a large quarry, evidently worked 
for marble, as the blocks have been cut out from below, 
leaving a large overhanging mass, part of which has broken 
off and fallen down. Some pieces which I picked up were of a 
very fine white marble, somewhat resembling that of Carrara. 
The opening of the quarry made a striking picture, the soft 



90 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



pink hue of the weather-stained rock contrasting exquisitely 
with the vivid green of the vines festooning the entrance. 

From the long hill beyond the Tombs, we took our last view 
of Jerusalem, far beyond whose walls I saw the Church of the 
Nativity, at Bethlehem. The Jewish synagogue on the top of 
the mountain called Nebbee Saniwil, the highest peak in Pales- 
tine, was visible at some distance to the west. Notwithstand- 
ing its sanctity, I felt little regret at leaving Jerusalem, and 
cheerfully took the rough road northward, over the stony hills. 
There were few habitations in sight, yet the hill-sides were 
cultivated, wherever it was possible for anything to grow. 
The wheat was just coming into head, and the people were at 
work, planting maize. After four hours' ride, we reached El 
Bireh, a little village on a hill, with the ruins of a convent and 
a large khan. The place takes its name from a fountain of 
excellent water, beside which we found our tents already 
pitched. In the evening, two Englishmen, an ancient Mentor, 
with a wild young Telemachus in charge, arrived, and camped 
near us. The night was calm and cool, and the full moon 
poured a flood of light over the bare and silent hills. 

TTe rose long before sunrise, and rode off in the brilliant 
morning — the sky unstained by a speck of vapor. In the 
valley, beyond El Bireh, the husbandmen were already at their 
ploughs, and the village boys were on their way to the uncul- 
tured parts of the hills, with their flocks of sheep and goats. 
The valley terminated in a deep gorge, with perpendicular 
walls of rock on either side. Our road mounted the hill on 
the eastern side, and followed the brink of the precipice 
through the pass, where an enchanting landscape opened upon 
us. The village of Yebrood crowned a hill which rose oppo* 



THE HILL-COUNTRY. 91 

site, and the mountain slopes leaning towards it on all sides 
were covered with orchards of fig trees, and either rustling 
with wheat or cleanly ploughed for maize. The soil was a dark 
brown loam, and very rich. The stones have been laboriously 
built into terraces ; and, even where heavy rocky boulders 
almost hid the soil, young fig and olive trees were planted in 
the crevices between them. I have never seen more thorough 
and patient cultivation. In the crystal of the morning air, 
the very hills laughed with plenty, and the whole landscape 
beamed with the signs of gladness on its countenance. 

The site of ancient Bethel was not far to the right of our 
road. Over hills laden with the olive, fig, and vine, we passed 
to Ain el-Haramiyeh, or the Fountain of the Robbers. Here 
there are tombs cut in the rock on both sides of the valley. 
Over another ridge, we descended to a large, bowl-shaped 
valley, entirely covered with wheat, and opening eastward 
towards the Jordan. Thence to Nablous (the Shechem of the 
Old and Sychar of the ISTew Testament) is four hours through 
a winding dell of the richest harvest land. On the way, we 
first caught sight of the snowy top of Mount Hermon, distant 
at least eighty miles in a straight line. Before reaching 
JSablous, I stopped to drink at a fountain of clear and sweet 
water, beside a square pile of masonry, upon which sat two 
Moslem dervishes. This, we were told, was the Tomb of 
Joseph, whose body, after having accompanied the Israelites 
in all their wanderings, was at last deposited near Shechem. 
There is less reason to doubt this spot than most of the sacred 
places of Palestine, for the reason that it rests, not on Chris- 
tian, but on Jewish tradition. The wonderful tenacity with 
which the Jews cling to every record or memento of their early 



92 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



history, and the fact that from the time of Joseph a portion of 
them have always lingered near the spot, render it highly 
probable that the locality of a spot so sacred should have been 
preserved from generation to generation to the present time. 
It has been recently proposed to open this tomb, by digging 
under it from the side. If the body of Joseph was actually 
deposited here, there are, no doubt, some traces of it remaining. 
It must have been embalmed, according to the Egyptian cus- 
tom, and placed in a coffin of the Indian sycamore, the wood 
of which is so nearly incorruptible, that thirty-five centuries 
would not suffice for its decomposition. The singular interest 
of such a discovery would certainly justify the experiment. 
Not far from the tomb is Jacob's Well, where Christ met the 
TVonian of Samaria. This place is also considered as authen- 
tic, for the same reasons. If not wholly convincing to all, 
there is, at least, so much probability in them that one is freed 
from that painful coldness and incredulity with which he 
beholds the sacred shows of Jerusalem. 

Leaving the Tomb of Joseph, the road turned to the west, 
and entered the narrow pass between Mounts Ebal and Geri- 
zim. The former is a steep, barren peak, clothed with terraces 
of cactus, standing on the northern side of the pass. Mount 
Gerizim is cultivated nearly to the top, and is truly a moun- 
tain of blessing, compared with its neighbor. Through an 
orchard of grand old olive-trees, we reached Xablous, which 
presented a charming picture, with its long mass of white, 
dome-topped stone houses, stretching along the foot of Gerizim 
through a sea of bowery orchards. The bottom of the valley 
resembles some old garden run to waste. Abundant streams, 
poured from the generous heart of the Mount of Blessing, leap 



XABL0U3. 



93 



and gurgle with pleasant noises through thickets of orange, 
fig, and pomegranate, through bowers of roses and tangled 
masses of briars and wild vines. We halted in a grove of 
olives, and, after our tent was pitched, walked upward through 
the orchards to the Ras-el-Ain (Promontory of the Fountain), 
on the side of Mount Gerizim. A multitude of beggars sat 
at the city gate ; and, as they continued to clamor after I had 
given sufficient alms, I paid them with "Allah deelek!" — (God 
give it to you !) — the Moslem's reply to such importunity — 
and they ceased in an instant. This exclamation, it seems, 
takes away from them the power of demanding a second 
time. 

From under the Ras-el-Ain gushes forth the Fountain of 
Honey, so called from the sweetness and purity of the water. 
We drank of it, and I found the taste very agreeable, but my 
companion declared that it had an unpleasant woolly flavor. 
When we climbed a little higher, we found that the true source 
from which the fountain is supplied was above, and that an 
Arab was washing a flock of sheep in it ! We continued our 
walk along the side of the mountain to the other end of the 
city, through gardens of almond, apricot, prune, and walnut- 
trees, bound each to each by great vines, whose heavy arms 
they seemed barely able to support. The interior of the town 
is dark and filthy; but it has a long, busy bazaar extending 
its whole length, and a cafe, where we procured the best 
coffee in Syria. 

Nablous is noted for the existence of a small remnant of the 
ancient Samaritans. The stock has gradually dwindled away, 
and amounts to only forty families, containing little more than 
a hundred and fifty individuals. They live in a particular 



94 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



quarter of the city, and are easily distinguished from the othei 
inhabitants by the cast of their features. After our guide, a 
native of Xablous, had pointed out three or four, I had no 
difficulty in recognising all the others we met. They have 
long, but not prominent noses, like the Jews ; small, oblong- 
eyes, narrow lips, and fair complexions, most of them having 
brown hair. They appear to be held in considerable obloquy 
by the Moslems. Our attendant, who was of the low class o( 
Arabs, took the boys we met very unceremoniously by the 
head, calling out : " Here is another Samaritan !" He then 
conducted us to their synagogue, to see the celebrated Penta- 
teuch, which is there preserved. We were taken to a small, 
open court, shaded by an apricot-tree, where the priest, an old 
man in a green robe and white turban, was seated in medita- 
tion. He had a long grey beard, and black eyes, that lighted 
up with a sudden expression of eager greed when we promised 
him backsheesh for a sight of the sacred book. He arose and 
took us into a sort of chapel, followed by a number of Samari- 
tan boys. Kneeling down at a niche in the wall, he produced 
from behind a wooden case a piece of ragged parchment, writ- 
ten with Hebrew characters. But the guide was familiar with 
this deception, and rated him so soundly that, after a little 
hesitation, he laid the fragment away, and produced a large tin 
cylinder, covered with a piece of green satin embroidered in 
gold. The boys stooped down and reverently kissed the 
blazoned cover, before it was removed. The cylinder, sliding 
open by two rows of hinges, opened at the same time the 
parchment scroll, which was rolled at both ends. It was, 
indeed, a very ancient manuscript, and in remarkable preserva- 
tion. The rents have been carefully repaired and the scroll 



A SCENE IN THE SYNAGOGUE. 



95 



neatly stitched upon another piece of parchment, covered on 
the outside with violet satin. The priest informed me that it 
was written by the son of Aaron ; but this does not coincide 
with the fact that the Samaritan Pentateuch is different from 
that of the Jews. It is, however, no doubt one of the oldest 
parchment records in the world, and the Samaritans look upon 
it with unbounded faith and reverence. The Pentateuch, 
according to their version, contains their only form of religion. 
They reject everything else which the Old Testament contains. 
Three or four days ago was their grand feast of sacrifice, when 
they made a burnt offering of a lamb, on the top of Mount 
Gerizim. Within a short time, it is said they have shown 
some curiosity to become acquainted with the New Testament, 
and the High Priest sent to Jerusalem to procure Arabic 
copies. 

I asked one of the wild-eyed boys whether he could read the 
sacred book. " Oh, yes," said the priest, " all these boys can 
read it and the one I addressed immediately pulled a volume 
from his breast, and commenced reading in fluent Hebrew. It 
appeared to be a part of their church service, for both the 
priest and hoab, or door-keeper, kept up a running series of 
responses, and occasionally the whole crowd shouted out some 
deep-mouthed word in chorus. The old man leaned forward 
with an expression as fixed and intense as if the text had 
become incarnate in him, following with his lips the sound of 
the boy's voice. It was a strange picture of religious enthu- 
siasm, and was of itself sufficient to convince me of the legiti- 
macy of the Samaritan's descent. When I rose to leave I gave 
him the promised fee, and a smaller one to the boy who read 
the service. This was the signal for a general attack from the 



96 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN c 



door-keeper and all the boys who were present. They sur- 
rounded me with eyes sparkling with the desire of gain, kissed 
the border of my jacket, stroked my beard coaxingly with their 
hands, which they then kissed, and, crowding up with a bois- 
terous show of affection, were about to fall on my neck in a 
heap, after the old Hebrew fashion. The priest, clamorous for 
more, followed with glowing face, and the whole group had a 
riotous and bacchanalian character, which I should never have 
imagined could spring from such a passion as avarice. 

On returning to our camp, we found Mentor and Telemachus 
arrived, but not on such friendly terms as their Greek proto- 
types. We were kept awake for a long time that night by 
their high words, and the first sound I heard the next morning 
came from their tent. Telemachus, I suspect, had found some 
island of Calypso, and did not relish the cold shock of the 
plunge into the sea, by which Mentor had forced him away. 
He insisted on returning to Jerusalem, but as Mentor would 
not allow him a horse, he had not the courage to try it on foot. 
After a series of altercations, in which he took a pistol to 
shoot the dragoman, and applied very profane terms to every- 
body in the company, his wrath dissolved into tears, and when 
we left, Mentor had decided to rest a day at Nablous, and let 
him recover from the effects of the storm. 

We rode down the beautiful valley, taking the road to 
Sebaste (Samaria), while our luggage-mules kept directly over 
the mountains to Jenin. Our path at first followed the course 
of the stream, between turfy banks and through luxuriant 
orchards. The whole country we overlooked was planted with 
olive-trees, and, except the very summits of the mountains, 
covered with grain-fields. For two hours our course was 



THE RUINS OF SAMARIA. 



97 



north-east, leading over the hills, and now and then dipping into 
beautiful dells. In one of these a large stream gushes from 
the earth in a full fountain, at the foot of a great olive-tree. 
The hill-side above it was a complete mass of foliage, crowned 
with the white walls of a Syrian village. Descending the val- 
ley, which is very deep, we came in sight of Samaria, situated 
on the summit of an isolated hill. The sanctuary of the 
ancient Christian church of St. John towers high above the 
mud walls of the modern village. Riding between olive- 
orchards and wheat-fields of glorious richness and beauty, we 
passed the remains of an acqueduct, and ascended the hill. 
The ruins of the church occupy the eastern summit. Part of 
them have been converted into a mosque, which the Christian 
foot is not allowed to profane. The church, which is in the 
Byzantine style, is apparently of the time of the Crusaders. 
It had originally a central and two side-aisles, covered with 
groined Gothic vaults. The sanctuary is semi-circular, with a 
row of small arches, supported by double pillars. The church 
rests on the foundations of some much more ancient building — 
probably a temple belonging to the Roman city. 

Behind the modern village, the hill terminates in a long, 
eliptical mound, about one-third of a mile in length. We 
made the tour of it, and were surprised at finding a large 
number of columns, each of a single piece of marble. They 
had once formed a double colonnade, extending from the 
church to a gate on the western side of the summit. Our 
native guide said they had been covered with an arch, and 
constituted a long market or bazaar — a supposition in which he 
may be correct. From the gate, which is still distinctly 
marked, we overlooked several deep valleys to the west, and 

5 



98 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



over them all, the blue horizon of the Mediterranean, south of 
Csesarea. On the northern side of the hill there are upwards 
of twenty more pillars standing, besides a number hurled 
down, and the remains of a quadrangular colonnade, on the 
side of the hill below. The total number of pillars on the 
summit cannot be less than one hundred, from twelve to 
eighteen feet in height. The hill is strewn, even to its base, 
with large hewn blocks and fragments of sculptured stone. 
The present name of the city was given to it by Herod, and it 
must have been at that time a most stately and beautiful 
place. 

We descended to a valley on the east, climbed a long 
ascent, and after crossing the broad shoulder of a mountain 
beyond, saw below us a landscape even more magnificent than 
that of Nablous. It was a great winding valley, its bottom 
rolling in waves of wheat and barley, while every hill-side, up 
to the bare rock, was mantled with groves of olive. The very 
summits which looked into this garden of Israel, were green 
with fragrant plants — wild thyme and sage, gnaphalium and 
camomile. Away to the west was the sea, and in the north- 
west the mountain chain of Carmel. We went down to the 
gardens and pasture-land, and stopped to rest at the Village 
of Geba, which hangs on the side of the mountain. A spring 
of whitish but delicious water gushed out of the soil, in the 
midst of a fig orchard. The women passed us, going back and 
forth with tall water-jars on their heads. Some herd-boys 
brought down a flock of black goats, and they were all given 
drink in a large wooden bowl. They were beautiful animals, 
with thick curved horns, white eyes, and ears a foot long. II 
was a truly Biblical picture in every feature. 



PALESTINE AND CALIFORNIA, 



99 



Beyond this valley we passed a circular basin, which has no 
outlet, so that in winter the bottom of it must be a lake. 
After winding among the hills an hour more, we came out upon 
the town of Jenin, a Turkish village, with a tall white minaret, 
at the head of the great plain of Esdraelon. It is supposed to 
be the ancient Jezreel, where the termagant Jezebel was 
thrown out of the window. We pitched our tent in a garden 
near the town, under a beautiful mulberry tree, and, as the 
place is in very bad repute, engaged a man to keep guard at 
night. An English family was robbed there two or three 
weeks ago. Our guard did his duty well, pacing back and 
forth, and occasionally grounding his musket to keep up his 
courage by the sound. In the evening, Francois caught a 
chameleon, a droll-looking little creature, which changed color 
in a marvellous manner. 

Our road, next day, lay directly across the Plain of Esdrae- 
lon, one of the richest districts in the world. It is now a 
green sea, covered with fields of wheat and barley, or great 
grazing tracts, on which multitudes of sheep and goats are 
wandering. In some respects it reminded me of the Valley 
of San Jose, and if I were to liken Palestine to any other 
country I have seen, it would be California. The climate and 
succession of the seasons are the same, the soil is very similar 
in quality, and the landscapes present the same general 
features. Here, in spring, the plains are covered with that 
deluge of floral bloom, which makes California seem a paradise. 
Here there are the same picturesque groves, the same rank 
fields of wild oats clothing the mountain-sides, the same 
aromatic herbs impregnating the air with balm, and above all, 
the same blue, cloudless days and dewless nights. While 



100 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



travelling here, I arn constantly reminded of our new Syria on 
the Pacific. 

Towards no:>n, Mount Tabor separated itself from the chain 
of hills before us, and stood out singly, at the extremity of the 
plain. We watered our horses at a spring in a swamp, were 
some women were collected, beating with sticks the rushes 
they had gathered to make mats. After reaching the moun- 
tains on the northern side of the plain, an ascent of an hour 
and a-half, through a narrow glen, brought us to Nazareth, 
which is situated in a cul-de-sac, under the highest peaks of 
the range. As we were passing a rocky part of the road, 
Mr. Harrison's horse fell with him and severely injured his 
leg. We were fortunately near our destination, and on reach- 
the Latin Convent, Fra Joachim, to whose surgical abilities 
the traveller's book bore witness, took him in charge. Many 
others besides ourselves have had reason to be thankful for the 
good offices of the Latin monks in Palestine. I have never 
met with a class more kind, cordial, and genial. All the 
convents are bound to take in and entertain all applicants — 
of vvhatever creed or nation — for the space of three days. 

In the afternoon, Fra Joachim accompanied me to the 
Church of the Yirgin, which is inclosed within the walls of the 
convent. It is built over the supposed site of the house in 
which the mother of Christ was living, at the time of the 
angelic annunciation. Under the high altar, a flight of steps 
leads down to the shrine of the Virgin, on the threshold of the 
house, where the Angel Gabriel's foot rested, as he stood, with 
a lily in his hand, announcing the miraculous conception. The 
shrine, of white marble and gold, gleaming in the light of 
golden lamps, stands under a rough arch of the natural rock, 



THE SHRINE OF THE ANNUNCIATION. 



101 



from the side of which hangs a heavy fragment of a granite 
pillar, suspended, as the devout believe, by divine power. Fra 
Joachim informed me that, when the Moslems attempted to 
obliterate all tokens of the holy place, this pillar was preserved 
by a miracle, that the locality might not be lost to the Chris- 
tians. At the same time, he said, the angels of God carried 
away the wooden house which stood at the entrance of the 
grotto ; and, after letting it drop in Marseilles, while they 
rested, picked it up again and set it down in Loretto, where it 
still remains. As he said this, there was such entire, absolute 
belief in the good monk's eyes, and such happiness in that 
belief, that not for ten times the gold on the shrine would I 
have expressed a doubt of the story. He then bade me kneel, 
that I might see the spot where the angel stood, and devoutly 
repeated a paternoster while I contemplated the pure plate of 
snowy marble, surrounded with vases of fragrant flowers, 
between which hung cressets of gold, wherein perfumed oils 
were burning. All the decorations of the place conveyed the 
idea of transcendent purity and sweetness ; and, for the. first 
time in Palestine, I wished for perfect faith in the spot. Behind 
the shrine, there are two or three chambers in the rock, which 
served as habitations for the family of the Virgin. 

A young Christian Nazarene afterwards conducted me to 
the House of Joseph, the Carpenter, which is now inclosed in 
a little chapel. It is merely a fragment of wall, undoubtedly 
as old as the time of Christ, and I felt willing to consider it a 
genuine relic. There was an honest roughness about the large 
stones, inclosing a small room called the carpenter's shop, 
which I could not find it in my heart to doubt. Besides, in a 
quiet country town like Nazareth, which has never known 



102 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



such vicissitudes as Jerusalem, much more dependence can be 
placed on popular tradition. For the same reason, I looked 
with reverence on the Table of Christ, also inclosed within a 
chapel. This is a large, natural rock, about nine feet by 
twelve, nearly square, and quite flat on the top. It is said 
that it once served as a table for Christ and his Disciples. The 
building called the School of Christ, where he went with other 
children of his age, is now a church of the Syrian Christians, 
who were performing a doleful mass, in Arabic, at the time of 
my visit. It is a vaulted apartment, about forty feet long, and 
only the lower part of the wall is ancient. At each of these 
places, the Nazarene put into my hand a piece of pasteboard, 
on which was printed a prayer in Latin, Italian, and Arabic, 
with the information that whoever visited the place, and 
made the prayer, would be entitled to seven years' indulgence. 
I duly read all the prayers, and, accordingly, my conscience 
ought to be at res : for twenty-one years. 



DEPARTURE FROM NAZARETH, 



103 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE COUNTRY OF GALILEE. 

Departure from Nazareth — A Christian Guide — Ascent of Mount Tabor— Wallachian 
Hermits — The Panorama of Tabor — Ride to Tiberias — A Bath in Genesareth — The 
Flowers of Galilee — The Mount of Beatitude — Magdala — Joseph's Well — Meeting 
with a Turk— The Fountain of the Salt- Works— The Upper Valley of the Jordan- 
Summer Scenery — The Rivers of Lebanon — Tell el-Kadi — An Arcadian Region — The 
Fountains of Banias. 

" Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green, 
And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene ; 
And I pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to see 
The gleam of thy waters, dark Galilee !" — Whittier. 

Banias (Cassarea Philippi), May 10, 1852. 

We left Nazareth on the morning of the 8th inst. My 
companion had done so well under the care of Era Joachim 
that he was able to ride, and our journey was not delayed by 
his accident. The benedictions of the good Franciscans accom- 
panied us as we rode away from the Convent, past the Foun- 
tain of the "Virgin, and out of the pleasant little valley where 
the boy Jesus wandered for many peaceful years. The Chris- 
tian guide we engaged for Mount Tabor had gone ahead, and 
we did not find him until we had travelled for more than two 
hours among the hills. As we approached the sacred moun- 
tain, we came upon the region of oaks — the first oak I had 
seen since leaving Europe last autumn. There are three or 
four varieties, some with evergreen foliage, and in their wild 



104 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



luxuriance and the picturesqueness of their forms and group- 
ings, they resemble those of California. The sea of grass and 
flowers in which they stood was sprinkled with thick tufts of 
wild oats — another point of resemblance to the latter country. 
But here, there is no gold; there, no sacred memories. 

The guide was waiting for us beside a spring, among the 
trees. He was a tall youth of about twenty, with a mild, 
submissive face, and wore the dark-blue turban, which appears 
to be the badge of a native Syrian Christian. I found myself 
involuntarily pitying him for belonging to a despised sect. 
There is no disguising the fact that one feels much more 
respect for the Mussulman rulers of the East, than for their 
oppressed subjects who profess his own faith. The surest way 
to make a man contemptible is to treat him contemptuously, 
and the Oriental Christians, who have been despised for centu- 
ries, are, with some few exceptions, despicable enough. Xow, 
however, since the East has become a favorite field of travel, 
and the Frank possesses an equal dignity with the Moslem, the 
native Christians are beginning to hold up their heads, and the 
return of self-respect will, in the course of time ; make them 
respectable. 

Mount Tabor stands a little in advance of the hill-country, 
with which it is connected only by a low spur or shoulder, its 
base being the Plain of Esdraelon. This is probably the 
reason why it has been fixed upon as the place of the Trans- 
figuration, as it is not mentioned by name in the Xew Testa- 
ment. The words are: " an high mountain apart," which some 
suppose to refer to the position of the mountain, and not to 
the remoteness of Christ and the three Disciples from men. 
The sides of the mountain are covered with clumps of oak, 



WALLACHIAN HERMITS, 



105 



hawthorn and other trees, in many places overrun with the 
white honeysuckle, its fingers dropping with odor of nutmeg 
and cloves. The ascent, by a steep and winding path, occu- 
pied an hour. The summit is nearly level, -and resembles some 
overgrown American field, or " oak opening.' 7 The grass is 
more than knee-deep ; the trees grow high and strong, and 
there are tangled thickets and bowers of vines without end. 
The eastern and highest end of the mountain is covered with 
the remains of an old fortress-convent, once a place of great 
strength, from the thickness of its walls. In a sort of cell 
formed among the ruins we found two monk-hermits. I 
addressed them in all languages of which I know a salutation, 
without effect, but at last made out that they were Walla- 
chians. They were men of thirty-five, with stupid faces, dirty 
garments, beards run to waste, and fur caps. Their cell was a 
mere hovel, without furniture, except a horrid caricature of 
the Virgin and Child, and four books of prayers in the Bulga- 
rian character. One of them walked about knitting a stock- 
ing, and paid no attention to us ; but the other, after giving 
us some deliciously cold water, got upon a pile of rubbish, and 
stood regarding us with open mouth while we took breakfast. 
So far from this being a cause of annoyance, I felt really glad 
that our presence had agitated the stagnant waters of his 
mind. 

The day was hazy and sultry, but the panoramic view from 
Mount Tabor was still very fine. The great Plain of Esdraelon 
lay below us like a vast mosaic of green and brown — jasper 
and verd-antique. On the west, Mount Carmel lifted his head 
above the blue horizon line of the Mediterranean. Turning to 
the other side, a strip of the Sea of Galilee glimmered deep 



106 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



down among the hills, and the Ghor, or the Valley of the 
Jordan, stretched like a broad gash through them. Beyond 
them, the country of Djebel Adjeloun, the ancient Decapolis, 
which still holds the walls of Gadara and the temples and 
theatres of Djerash, faded away into vapor, and, still further 
to the south, the desolate hills of Gilead, the home of Jeph- 
thah. Mount Hermon is visible when the atmosphere is clear, 
but we were not able to see it. 

From the top of Mount Tabor to Tiberias, on the Sea of 
Galilee, is a journey of five hours, through a wild country, 
with bat one single miserable Tillage on the road. At first 
we rode through lonely dells, grown with oak and brilliant 
with flowers, especially the large purple mallow, and then over 
broad, treeless tracts of rolling land, but partially cultivated. 
The heat was very great ; I had no thermometer, but should 
judge the temperature to have been at least 95° in the shade. 
Prom the edge of the upland tract, we looked down on the 
Sea of Galilee — a beautiful sheet of water sunk among the 
mountains, and more than 300 feet below the level of the 
Mediterranean. It lay unruffled in the bottom of the basin, 
reflecting the peaks of the bare red mountains beyond it. 
Tiberias was at our very feet, a few palm trees alone relieving 
the nakedness of its dull walls. After taking a welcome drink 
at the Fountain of Fig-trees, we descended to the town, which 
has a desolate and forlorn air. Its walls have been partly 
thrown down by earthquakes, and never repaired. We found 
our tents already pitched on the bank above the lake, and 
under one of the tottering towers. 

Not a breath of air was stirring ; the red hills smouldered 
in the heat, and the waters of Genesareth at our feet glim- 



A BATH IN GEXESARETH. 



107 



mered with an oily smoothness, unbroken by a ripple. We 
untwisted our turbans, kicked off our baggy trowsers, and 
speedily releasing ourselves from the barbarous restraints of 
dress, dipped into the tepid sea and floated lazily out until we 
could feel the exquisite coldness of the living springs which 
sent up their jets from the bottom. I was lying on my back, 
moving my fins just sufficiently to keep afloat, and gazing 
dreamily through half-closed eyes on the forlorn palms of 
Tiberias, when a shrill voice hailed me with : " Howadji, 
get out of our way !" There, at the old stone gateway below 
our tent, stood two Galilean damsels, with heavy earthen jars 
upon their heads. " Go away yourselves, maidens I" 1 
answered, " if you want us to come out of the water." " But 
we must fill our pitchers," one of them replied. " Then fill 
them at once, and be not afraid ; or leave them, and we will 
311 them for you." Thereupon they put the pitchers down, but 
remained watching us very complacently while we sank the 
vessels to the bottom of the lake, and let them fill from the 
colder and purer tide of the springs. In bringing them back 
through the water to the gate, the one I propelled before me 
happened to strike against a stone, and its fair owner, on 
receiving it, immediately pointed to a crack in the side, which 
she declared I had made, and went off lamenting. After we 
had resumed our garments, and were enjoying the pipe of 
indolence and the coffee of contentment, she returned and 
made such an outcry, that I was fain to purchase peace by the 
price of a new pitcher. I passed the first hours of the night 
in looking out of my tent-door, as I lay, on the stars sparkling 
in the bosom of Galilee, like the sheen of Assyrian spears, and 
the glare of the great fires kindled on the opposite shore. 



108 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

The next day, we travelled northward along the lake, 
passing through continuous thickets of oleander, fragrant with 
its heavy pink blossoms. The thistles were more abundant 
and beautiful than ever. I noticed, in particular, one with a 
superb globular flower of a bright blue color, which would 
make a choice ornament for our gardens at home. At the 
north-western head of the lake, the mountains fall back and 
leave a large tract of the richest meadow-land, which narrows 
away into a deep dell, overhung by high mountain headlands, 
faced with naked cliffs of red rock. The features of the land- 
scape are magnificent. Up the dell, I saw plainly the Mount 
of Beatitude, beyond which lies the village of Cana of Galilee. 
In coming up the meadow, we passed a miserable little village 
of thatched mud huts, almost hidden by the rank weeds which 
grew around them. A withered old crone sat at one of the 
doors, sunning herself. " What is the name of this village?" 
I asked. " It is Mejdel," was her reply. This was the 
ancient Magdala, the home of that beautiful but sinful Mag- 
dalene, whose repentance has made her one of the brightest of 
the Saints. The crystal waters of the lake here lave a shore 
of the cleanest pebbles. The path goes winding through olean- 
ders, nebbuks, patches of hollyhock, anise-seed, fennel, and 
other spicy plants, while, on the west, great fields of barley 
stand ripe for the cutting. In some places, the Fellahs, men 
and women, were at work, reaping and binding the sheaves. 
After crossing this tract, we came to the hill, at the foot of 
which was a ruined khan, and on the summit, other undistin- 
guishable ruins, supposed by some to be those of Capernaum. 
The site of that exalted town, however, is still a matter of 
discussion. 

l 



MEETING WITH ,\ TURK. 



109 



We journeyed on in a most sweltering atmosphere over the 
ascending hills, the valley of the Upper Jordan lying deep on 
our right. In a shallow hollow, under one of the highest 
peaks, there stands a large deserted khan, over a welLof very 
cold, sw T eet w r ater, called Bir Youssuf by the Arabs. Some- 
where near it, according to tradition, is the field where J oseph 
w r as sold by his brethren ; and the well is, no doubt, looked 
upon by many as the identical pit into w T hich he was thrown. 
A stately Turk of Damascus, with four servants behind him, 
came riding up as we were resting in the gateway of the khan, 
and, in answer to my question, informed me that the well was 
so named from JSTebbee Youssuf (the Prophet Joseph), and not 
from Sultan Joseph Saladin. He took us for his countrymen, 
accosting me first in Turkish, and, even after I had talked with 
him some time in bad Arabic, asked me whether I had been 
making a pilgrimage to the tombs of certain holy Moslem saints, 
in the neighborhood of Jaffa. He joined company with us, how- 
ever, and shared his pipe with me, as we continued our journey. 
We rode for two hours more over hills bare of trees, but 
covered thick with grass and herbs, and finally lost our way. 
Francois went ahead, dashing through the fields of barley and 
lentils, and we reached the path again, as the Waters of 
Merom came in sight. We then descended into the Yalley of 
the Upper Jordan, and encamped opposite the lake, at Ain el- 
Mellaha (the Fountain of the Salt-Works), the first source of 
the sacred river. A stream of water, sufficient to turn half-a- 
dozen mills, gushes and gurgles up at the foot of the mountain. 
There are the remains of an ancient dam, by which a large 
pool was formed for the irrigation of the valley. It still sup- 
plies a little Arab mill below the fountain. This is a frontier 



110 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

post, between the jurisdictions of the Pashas of Jerusalem 
and Damascus, and the miikkairee of the Greek Caloyer, who 
left us at Tiberias, was obliged to pay a duty of seven and a 
half piastres on fifteen mats, which he had bought at Jerusa- 
lem for one and a half piastres each. The poor man will 
perhaps make a dozen piastres (about half a dollar) on these 
mats at Damascus, after carrying them on his mule for more 
than two hundred miles. 

We pitched our tents on the grassy meadow below the 
mill — a charming spot, with Tell el-Khanzir (the hill of wild 
boars) just in front, over the Waters of Merom, and the snow- 
streaked summit of Djebel esh-Shekh — the great Mount Her- 
mon — towering high above the valley. This is the loftiest 
peak of the Anti-Lebanon, and is 10,000 feet above the sea. 
The next morning, we rode for three hours before reaching the 
second spring of the Jordan, at a place which Francois called 
Tell el-Kadi, but which did not at all answer with the descrip- 
tion given me by Dr. Robinson, at Jerusalem. The upper 
part of the broad valley, whence the Jordan draws his waters, 
is flat, moist, and but little cultivated. There are immense 
herds of sheep, goats, and buffaloes wandering over it. The 
people are a dark Arab tribe, and live in tents and miserable 
clay huts. Where the valley begins to slope upward towards 
the hills, they plant wheat, barley, and lentils. The soil is the 
fattest brown loam, and the harvests are wonderfully rich. I 
saw many tracts of wheat, from^half a mile to a mile in extent, 
which would average forty bushels to the acre. Yet the 
ground is never manured, and the Arab plough scratches up 
but a few inches of the surface. What a paradise might be 
made of this country, were it in better hands ! 



THE STREAMS OP LEBANON. 



Ill 



The second spring is not quite so large as Ain el-Mellaha ; 
but, like it, pours out a strong stream from a single source 
The pool was filled with women, washing the heavy fleeces of 
their sheep, and beating the dirt out of their striped camel's- 
hair abas with long poles. We left it, and entered on a slope 
of stony ground, forming the head of the valley. The view 
extended southward, to the mountains closing the northern 
cove of the Sea of Galilee. It was a grand, rich landscape — 
so rich that its desolation seems forced and unnatural. High 
on the summit of a mountain to the west, the ruins of a large 
Crusader fortress looked down upon us. The soil, which 
slowly climbs upward through a long valley between Lebanon 
and Anti-Lebanon, is cut with deep ravines. The path is very 
difficult to find ; and while we were riding forward at random, 
looking in all directions for our baggage mules, we started up 
a beautiful gazelle. At last, about noon, hot, hungry, and 
thirsty, we reached a swift stream, roaring at the bottom of a 
deep ravine, through a bed of gorgeous foliage. • The odor of 
the wild grape-blossoms, which came up to us, as we rode along 
the edge, was overpowering in its sweetness. An old bridge 
of two arches crossed the stream. There was a pile of rocks 
against the central pier, and there we sat and took breakfast 
in the shade of the maples, while the cold green waters foamed 
at our feet. By all the Naiads and Tritons, what a joy there 
is in beholding a running stream ! The rivers of Lebanon are 
miracles to me, after my knowledge of the Desert. A com- 
pany of Arabs, seven in all, were gathered under the bridge ; 
and, from a flute which one of them blew, I judged they were 
taking a pastoral holiday. We kept our pistols beside us ; for 
we did not like their looks. Before leaving, they told us that 



. 112 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the country was full of robbers, and advised us to be on the 
lookout. We rode more carefully, after this, and kept with 
our baggage on reaching it. An hour after leaving the bridge, 
we came to a large circular, or rather annular mound, over- 
grown with knee-deep grass and clumps of oak-trees. A large 
stream, of a bright blue color, gushed down the north side, 
and after half embracing the mound swept off across the 
meadows to the Waters of Merom. There could be no doubt 
that this was Tell el-Kadi, the site of Dan, the most northern 
town of ancient Israel. The mound on which it was built is 
the crater of an extinct volcano. The Hebrew word Dan 
signifies "judge," and Tell el-Kadi, in Arabic, is "The Hill of 
the Judge." 

The Anti-Lebanon now rose near us, its northern and 
western slopes green with trees and grass. The first range, 
perhaps 5,000 feet in height, shut out the snowy head of Her- 
mon ; but still the view was sublime in its large and harmoni- 
ous outlines. Our road was through a country resembling 
Arcadia — the earth hidden by a dense bed of grass and 
flowers ; thickets of blossoming shrubs ; old, old oaks, with 
the most gnarled of trunks, the most picturesque of boughs, 
and the glossiest of green leaves ; olive-trees of amazing anti- 
quity ; and, threading and enlivening all, the clear-cold floods 
of Lebanon. This was the true haunt of Pan, whose altars 
are now before me, graven on the marble crags of Hermon. 
Looking on those altars, and on the landscape, lovely as a 
Grecian dream, I forget that the lament has long been sung : 
" Pan, Pan is dead !" 

In another hour, we reached this place, the ancient Csesarea 
Philippi, now a poor village, embowered in magnificent trees, 



BAN"IAS. 



113 



and washed by glorious waters. There are abundant remains 
of the old city : fragments of immense walls ; broken granite 
columns ; traces of pavements ; great blocks of hewn stone ; 
marble pedestals, and the like. In the rock at the foot of the 
mountain, there are several elegant niches, with Greek inscrip- 
tions, besides a large natural grotto. Below them, the water 
gushes up through the stones, in a hundred streams, forming 
a flood of considerable size. We have made our camp in an 
olive grove near the end of the village, beside an immense 
terebinth tree, which is inclosed in an open court, paved with 
stone. This is the town-hall of Banias, where the Shekh dis- 
penses justice, and at the same time, the resort of all the idlers 
of the place. We went up among them, soon after our arrival, 
and were given seats of honor near the Shekh, who talked with 
me a long time about America. The people exhibit a very 
sensible curiosity, desiring to know the extent of our country, 
the number of inhabitants, the amount of taxation, the price 
of grain, and other solid information. 

The Shekh and the men of the place inform us that the 
Druses are infesting the road to Damascus. This tribe is in 
rebellion in Djebel Hauaran, on account of the conscription, 
and some of them, it appears, have taken refuge in the fast- 
nesses of Hermon, where they are beginning to plunder tra- 
vellers. While I was talking with the Shekh, a Druse came 
down from the mountains, and sat for half an hour among the 
villagers, under the terebinth, and we have just heard that he 
has gone back the way he came. This fact has given us some 
anxiety, as he may have been a spy sent down to gather news ; 
and, if so, we are almost certain to be waylaid. If we were 
well armed, we should not fear a dozen, but all our weapons 



114 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



consist of a sword and four pistols. After consulting toge- 
ther, we decided to apply to the Shekh for two armed men, to 
accompany us. I accordingly went to him again, and exhibited 
the firman of the Pasha of J erusalem, which he read, stating 
that, even without it, he would have felt it his duty to grant 
our request. This is the graceful way in which the Orientals 
submit to a peremptory order. He thinks that one man will 
be sufficient, as we shall probably not meet with any large 
party. 

The day has been, and still is, excessively hot. The atmos- 
phere is sweltering, and all around us, over the thick patches of 
inallow and wild mustard, the bees are humming with a con- 
tinuous sultry sound. The Shekh, with a number of lazy 
villagers, is still seated under the terebinth, in a tent of shade, 
impervious to the sun. I can hear the rush of the fountains of 
Banias — the holy springs of Hermon, whence Jordan is born. 
But what is this ? The odor of the velvety weed of Shiraz 
meets my nostrils ; a dark-eyed son of Pan places the narghi- 
leh at my feet ; and, bubbling more sweetly than the streams 
of Jordan, the incense most dear to the god dims the crystal 
censer, and floats from my lips in rhythmic ejaculations. I, 
too, am in Arcadia 1 



C^SAREA PHILIPPI 



115 



CHAPTER VIII. 

CROSSING THE ANTI-LEBANON. 

The Harmless Guard— Csesarea Philippi— The Valley of the Druses— The Sides of Mount 
Hermon — An Alarm — Threading a Defile — Distant view of Djebel Hauaran — Another 
Alarm — Camp at Katana — We Ride into Damascus. 

Damascus, May 12, 1852. 

We rose early, so as to be^ready for a long march. The 
guard came — a mild-looking Arab — without arms ; but on our 
refusing to take him thus, he brought a Turkish musket, terri- 
ble to behold, but quite guiltless of any murderous intent. 
We gave ourselves up to fate, with true Arab resignation, and 
began ascending the Anti-Lebanon. Up and up, by stony 
paths, under the oaks, beside the streams, and between the 
wheat-fields, we climbed for two hours, and at last reached a 
comb or dividing ridge, whence we could look into a valley on 
the other side, or rather inclosed between the main chain and 
the offshoot named Djebel Heish, which stretches away towards 
the south-east. About half-way up the ascent, we passed the 
ruined acropolis of Csesarea Philippi, crowning the summit of 
a lower peak. The walls and bastions cover a great extent of 
ground, and were evidently used as a stronghold in the Middle 
Ages. 



116 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



The valley into which we descended lay directly under one 
of the peaks of Hermon and the rills that watered it were fed 
from his snow-fields. It was inhabited by Druses, but no men 
were to be seen, except a few poor husbandmen, ploughing on 
the mountain-sides. The women, wearing those enormous 
horns on their heads which distinguish them from the Moham- 
medan females, were washing at a pool below. TTe crossed 
the valley, and slowly ascended the height on the oppo- 
site side, taking care to keep with the baggage-mules. Up to 
this time, we met very few persons ; and we forgot the antici- 
pated perils in contemplating the rugged scenery of the Anti- 
Lebanon. The mountain-sides were brilliant with flowers, and 
many new and beautiful specimens arrested our attention. The 
asphodel grew in bunches beside the streams, and the large 
scarlet anemone outshone even the poppy, whose color here is 
the quintessence of flame. Five hours after leaving Banias, 
we reached the highest part of the pass — a dreary volcanic 
region, covered with fragments of lava. Just at this place, 
an old Arab met us, and, after scanning us closely, stopped 
and accosted Dervish. The latter immediately came running 
ahead, quite excited with the news that the old man had seen 
a company of about fifty Druses descend from the sides of 
Mount Hermon, towards the road we were to travel. We 
immediately ordered the baggage to halt, and Mr. Harrison, 
Francois, and myself rode on to reconnoitre. Our guard, the 
valiant man of Banias, whose teeth already chattered with 
fear, prudently kept with the baggage. TVe crossed the ridge, 
and watched the stony mountain-sides for some time ; but no 
spear or glittering gun-barrel could we see. The caravan was 
then set in motion ; and we had not proceeded far before we 



VIEW FROM THE ANTI-LEBANON. 



in 



met a second company of Arabs, who informed us that the 
road was free. 

Leaving the heights, we descended cautiously into a ravine 
with walls of rough volcanic rock on each side. It was a pass 
where three men might have stood their ground against a 
hundred ; and we did not feel thoroughly convinced of our 
safety till we had threaded its many windings and emerged 
upon a narrow valley. A village called Beit Jenn nestled 
under the rocks ; and below it, a grove of poplar-trees shaded 
the banks of a rapid stream. We had now fairly crossed the 
Anti-Lebanon. The dazzling snows of Mount Hermon over- 
hung us on the west ; and, from the opening of the valley, we 
looked across a wild, waste country, to the distant range of 
Djebel Hauaran, the seat of the present rebellion, and one of 
the most interesting regions of Syria. I regretted more than 
ever not being able to reach it. The ruins of Bozrah, Ezra, 
and other ancient cities, would well repay the arduous charac- 
ter of the journey, while the traveller might succeed in getting 
some insight into the life and habits of that singular people, 
the Druses. But now, and perhaps for some time to come, 
there is no chance of entering the Hauaran. 

Towards the middle of the afternoon, we reached a large 
village, which is usually the end of the first day's journey from 
Banias. Our men wanted to stop here, but we considered 
that to halt then would be to increase the risk, and decided to 
push on to Katana, four hours' journey from Damascus. They 
yielded with a bad grace ; and we jogged on over the stony 
road, crossing the long hills which form the eastern base of the 
Anti-Lebanon. Before long, another Arab met us with the 
news that there was an encampment of Druses on the plain 



118 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



between us and Katana. At this, our guard, who had reco« 
vered sufficient spirit to ride a few paces in advance, fell back, 
and the impassive Dervish became greatly agitated. Where 
there is an uncertain danger, it is always better to go ahead 
than to turn back ; and we did so. But the guard reined up 
on the top of the first ridge, trembling as he pointed to a dis- 
tant hill, and cried out : "Akd, ahb henak!" (There they are !) 
There were, in fact, the shadows of some rocks, which bore a 
faint resemblance to -tents. Before sunset, we reached the last 
declivity of the mountains., and saw far in the dusky plain, the 
long green belt of the gardens of Damascus, and here and 
there the indistinct glimmer of a minaret. Katana, our rest- 
ing-place for the night, lay below us, buried in orchards of olive 
and orange. We pitched our tents on the banks of a beautiful 
stream, enjoyed the pipe of tranquillity, after our long march, 
and soon forgot the Druses, in a slumber that lasted unbroken 
till dawn. 

In the morning we sent back the man of Banias, left the 
baggage to take care of itself, and rode on to Damascus, as 
fast as our tired horses could carry us. The plain, at first 
barren and stony, became enlivened with vineyards and fields 
of wheat, as we advanced. Arabs were everywhere at work, 
ploughing and directing the water-courses. The belt of living 
green, the bower in which the great city, the Queen of the 
Orient, hides her beauty, drew nearer and nearer, stretching 
out a crescent of foliage for miles on either hand, that gra- 
dually narrowed and received us into its cool and fragrant 
heart. We sank into a sea of olive, pomegranate, orange, 
plum, apricot, walnut, and plane trees, and were lost. The 
sun sparkled in the rolling surface above ; but we swam 



THE REVOLT OF THE DRUSES, 



119 



through the green depths, below his reach, and thus, drifted 
on through miles of shade, entered the city. 

Since our arrival, I find that two other parties of travellers, 
one of which crossed the Anti-Lebanon on the northern side of 
Mount Hermon, were obliged to take guards, and saw several 
Druse spies posted on the heights, as they passed. A Russian 
gentleman travelling from here to Tiberias, was stopped three 
times on the road, and only escaped being plundered from the 
fact of his having a Druse dragoman. The disturbances are 
more serious than I had anticipated. Four regiments left here 
yesterday, sent to the aid of a company of cavalry, which is 
surrounded by the rebels in a valley of Dejebel Hauaran, and 
unable to get out. 



120 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 



CHAPTER IX. 

PICTURES OF DAMASCUS. 

Damascus from the Anti-Lebanon — Entering the City — A Diorama of Bazaars — An 
Oriental Hotel — Our Chamber — The Bazaars — Pipes and Coffee — The Rivers of 
Damascus — Palaces of the Jews — Jewish Ladies — A Christian Gentleman — The Sacred 
Localities — Damascus Blades — The Sword of Haroun Al-Raschid — An Arrival from 
Palmyra. 

" Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of 
Israel 2 Kings, v. 12. 

Damascus, Wednesday, May 19, 1852. 

Damascus is considered by many travellers as the best remain- 
ing type of an Oriental city. Constantinople is semi-European; 
Cairo is fast becoming so ; but Damascus, away from the 
highways of commerce, seated alone between the Lebanon and 
the Syrian Desert, still retains, in its outward aspect and in 
the character of its inhabitants, all the pride and fancy and 
fanaticism of the times of the Caliphs. With this judgment, 
in general terms, I agree ; but not to its ascendancy, in every 
respect, over Cairo. True, when you behold Damascus from 
the Salahiyeh, the last slope of the Anti-Lebanon, it is" the 
realization of all that you have dreamed of Oriental splendor ; 
the world has no picture more dazzling. It is Beauty carried 
to the Sublime, as I have felt when overlooking some bound- 
less forest of palms within the tropics. From the hill, whose 



DAMASCUS FROM THE ANTI-LEBANON. 



121 



ridges heave behind you until in the south they rise to the 
snowy head of Mount Hermon, the great Syrian plain 
stretches away to the Euphrates, broken at distances of ten 
* and fifteen miles, by two detached mountain chains. In a ter- 
rible gorge at your side, the river Barrada, the ancient 
Pharpar, forces its way to the plain, and its waters, divided 
into twelve different channels, make all between you and those 
blue island-hills of the desert, one great garden, the boundaries 
of which your vision can barely distinguish. Its longest 
diameter cannot be less than twenty miles. You look down on 
a world of foliage, and fruit, and blossoms, whose hue, by 
contrast with the barren mountains and the yellow rim of the 
desert which incloses it, seems brighter than all other gardens 
in the world. Through its centre, following the course of the 
river, lies Damascus ; a line of white walls, topped with domes 
and towers and tall minarets, winding away for miles through 
the green sea. Nothing less than a city of palaces, whose 
walls are marble and whose doors are ivory and pearl, could 
keep up the enchantment of that distant view. 

We rode for an hour through the gardens before entering 
the gate. The fruit-trees, of whatever variety — walnut, olive, 
apricot, or fig — were the noblest of their kind. Roses and 
pomegranates in bloom starred the dark foliage, and the 
scented jasmine overhung the walls. But as we approached 
the city, the view was obscured by high mud walls on either 
side of the road, and we only caught glimpses now and then 
of the fragrant wilderness. The first street we entered was 
low and mean, the houses of clay. Following this, we came 
to an uncovered bazaar, with rude shops on either side, pro- 
tected by mats stretched in front and supported by poles. 

6 



122 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Here all sorts of common stuffs and utensils were sold, and 
the street was filled with crowds of Fellahs and Desert Arabs. 
Two large sycamores shaded it, and the Seraglio of the Pasha 
of Damascus, a plain two-story building, faced the entrance of 
the main bazaar, which branched off into the city. We turned 
into this, and after passing through several small bazaars 
stocked with dried fruits, pipes and pipe-bowls, groceries, and 
all the primitive wares of the East, reached a large passage, 
covered with a steep wooden roof, and entirely occupied by 
venders of silk stuffs. Out of this we passed through another, 
devoted to saddles and bridles ; then another, full of spices, 
and at last reached the grand bazaar, where all the richest 
stuffs of Europe and the East were displayed in the shops. 
We rode slowly along through the cool twilight, crossed here 
and there by long pencils of white light, falling through 
apertures in the roof, and illuminating the gay turbans and silk 
caftans of the lazy merchants. But out of this bazaar, at 
intervals, opened the grand gate of a khan, giving us a view of 
its marble court, its fountains, and the dark arches of its store- 
rooms ; or the door of a mosque, with its mosaic floor and pil- 
lared corridor. The interminable lines of bazaars, with their 
atmospheres of spice and fruit and fragrant tobacco ; the 
hushed tread of the slippered crowds ; the plash of falling foun- 
tains and the bubbling of innumerable narghilehs ; the pictur- 
esque merchants and their customers, no longer in the big 
trowsers of Egypt, but the long caftans and abas of Syria ; 
the absence of Frank faces and dresses — in all these there was 
the true spirit of the Orient, and so far, we were charmed 
with Damascus. 

At the hotel in the Soog el-Harab, or Frank quarter, the 



AN ORIENTAL HOTEL. 



123 



illusion was not dissipated. It had once been the house of 
some rich merchant. The court into which we were ushered 
is paved with marble, with a great stone basin, surrounded with 
vases of flowering plants, in the centre. Two large lemon 
trees shade the entrance, and a vine, climbing to the top of 
the house, makes a leafy arbor over the flat roof. The walls 
of the house are painted in horizontal bars of blue, white, 
orange and white— a gay grotesqueness of style which does 
not offend the eye under an eastern sun. On the southern 
side of the court is the liwan, an arrangement for which the 
houses of Damascus are noted. It is a vaulted apartment, 
twenty feet high, entirely open towards the court, except a fine 
pointed arch at the top, decorated with encaustic ornaments of 
the most brilliant colors. In front, a tesselatecl pavement of 
marble leads to the doors of the chambers on each side. 
Beyond this is a raised floor covered with matting, and along 
the farther end a divan, whose piled cushions are the most 
tempting trap ever set to catch a lazy man. Although not 
naturally indolent, I find it impossible to resist the fascination 
of this lounge. ' Leaning back, cross-legged, against the 
cushions, with the inseparable pipe in one's hand, the view of 
the court, the water-basin, the flowers and lemon trees, the 
servants and dragomen going back and forth, or smoking their 
narghilehs in the shade — all framed in the beautiful arched 
entrance, is so perfectly Oriental, so true a tableau from the 
times of good old Haroun Al-Raschid, that one is surprised to 
find how many hours have slipped away while he has been 
silently enjoying it. 

Opposite the liwan is a large room paved with marble, with 
a handsome fountain in the centre. It is the finest in the 



124 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



hotel, and now occupied by Lord Dalkeith and his friends. 
Our own room is on the upper floor, and is so rich in decora- 
tions that I have not yet finished the study of them. Along 
the side, looking down on the court, we have a mosaic floor of 
white, red, black and yellow marble. Above this is raised a 
second floor, carpeted and furnished in European style. The 
walls, for a height of ten feet, are covered with wooden panel- 
ling, painted with arabesque devices in the gayest colors, and 
along the top there is a series of Arabic inscriptions in gold. 
There are a number of niches or open closets in the walls, 
whose arched tops are adorned with pendent wooden orna- 
ments, resembling stalactites, and at the corners of the room 
the heavy gilded and painted cornice drops into similar gro- 
tesque incrustations. A space of bare white wall intervenes 
between this cornice and the ceiling, which is formed of slim 
poplar logs, laid side by side, and so covered with paint and 
with scales and stripes and network devices in gold and silver, 
that one would take them to be clothed with the skins of the 
magic serpents that guard the Yalley of Diamonds. My most 
satisfactory remembrance of Damascus will be this room. 

My walks through the city have been almost wholly confined 
to the bazaars, which are of immense extent. One can walk 
for many miles, without going beyond the cover of their peaked 
wooden roofs, and in all this round will find no two precisely 
alike. One is devoted entirely to soap ; another to tobacco, 
through which you cough and sneeze your way to the bazaar 
of spices, and delightedly inhale its perfumed air. Then there 
is the bazaar of sweetmeats ; of vegetables ; of red slippers ; 
of shawls ; of caftans ; of bakers and ovens ; of wooden ware ; 
of jewelry — a great stone building, covered with vaulted pas- 



BAZAARS AND CAFES, 



125 



sages ; of Aleppo silks ; of Baghdad carpets ; of Indian stuffs ; 
of coffee ; and so on, through a seemingly endless variety. As 
I have already remarked, along the line of the bazaars are 
many khans, the resort of merchants from all parts of Turkey 
and Persia, and even India. They are large, stately buildings, 
and some of them have superb gateways of sculptured marble. 
The interior courts are paved with stone, with fountains in the 
centre, and many of them are covered with domes resting on 
massive pillars. The largest has a roof of nine domes, sup- 
ported by four grand pillars, which inclose a fountain. The 
mosques, into which no Christian is allowed to enter, are in 
general inferior to those of Cairo, but their outer courts are 
always paved with marble, adorned with fountains, and sur- 
rounded by light and elegant corridors. The grand mosque is 
an imposing edifice, and is said to occupy the site of a former 
Christian church. 

Another pleasant feature of the city is its coffee shops, 
which abound in the bazaars and on the outskirts of the gar- 
dens, beside the running streams. Those in the bazaars are 
spacious rooms with vaulted ceilings, divans running around 
the four walls, and fountains in the centre. During the after- 
noon they are nearly always filled with Turks, Armenians and 
Persians, smoking the narghileh, or water-pipe, which is the 
universal custom in Damascus. The Persian tobacco, brought 
here by the caravans from Baghdad, is renowned for this kind 
of smoking. The most popular coffee-shop is near the citadel, 
on the banks and over the surface of the Pharpar. It is a 
rough wooden building, with a roof of straw mats, but the 
sight and sound of the rushing waters, as they shoot away with 
arrowy swiftness under your feet, the shade of the trees that 



126 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



line the banks, and the cool breeze that always visits the 
spot, beguile you into a second pipe ere you are aware. " El 
ma, wa d kkodra, wa el widj el has s an — water, verdure and a 
beautiful face," says an old Arab proverb, " are three things 
which delight the heart," and the Syrians avow that all three 
are to be found in Damascus. Xot only on the three Sundays 
of each week, but every day, in the gardens about the city, 
you may see whole families (and if Jews or Christians, many 
groups of families) spending the day in the shade, beside the 
beautiful waters. There are several gardens fitted up pur- 
posely for these pic-nics, with kiosks, fountains and pleasant 
seats under the trees. Yeu bring your pipes, your provisions 
and the like with you, but servants are in attendance to furnish 
tire and water and coffee, for which, on leaving, you give them 
a small gratuity. Of all the Damascenes I have yet seen, 
there is not one but declares his city to be the Garden of the 
World, the Pearl of the Orient, and thanks God and the 
Prophet for having permitted him to be born and to live in it. 

But, except the bazaars, the khans and the baths, of which < 
there are several most luxurious establishments, the city itself 
is neither so rich nor so purely Saracenic in its architecture as 
Cairo. The streets are narrow and dirty, and the houses, 
which are never more than two low stories in height, are built 
of sun-dried bricks, coated with plaster. I miss the solid piles 
of stone, the elegant doorways, and, above all, the exquisite 
hanging balconies of carved wood, which meet one in the 
old streets of Cairo. Damascus is the representative of all 
that is gay, brilliant, and picturesque, in Oriental life; but for 
stately magnificence, Cairo, and, I suspect, Baghdad, is its 
superior. 



PALAGES OF THE JEWS. 



127 



We visited the other clay the houses of some of the richest 
Jews and Christians. Old Abou-Ibrahim, the Jewish servant 
of the hotel, accompanied and introduced us. It is customary 
for travellers to make these visits, and the families, far from 
being annoyed, are flattered by it. The exteriors of the 
houses are mean ; but after threading a narrow passage, we 
emerged into a court, rivalling in profusion of ornament and 
rich contrast of colors one's early idea of the Palace of Alad- 
din. The floors and fountains are all of marble mosaic ; the 
arches of the liwan glitter with gold, and the walls bewilder 
the eye^ith the intricacy of their adornments. In the first 
house, we were received by the family in a room of precious 
marbles, with niches in the walls, resembling grottoes of silver 
stalactites. The cushions of the divan were of the richest silk, 
and a chandelier of Bohemian crystal hung from the ceiling. 
Silver narghilehs were brought to us, and coffee was served in 
heavy silver zerfs. The lady of the house was a rather corpu- 
lent lady of about thirty-five, and w T ore a semi-European robe 
of embroidered silk and lace, with full trowsers gathered at 
the ankles, and yellow slippers. Her black hair was braided, 
and fastened at the end with golden ornaments, and the light 
scarf twisted around her head blazed with diamonds. The lids 
of her large eyes were stained with kohl, and her eyebrows 
were plucked out and shaved away so as to leave only a thin, 
arched line, as if drawn with a pencil, above each eye. Her 
daughter, a girl of fifteen, who bore the genuine Hebrew name 
of Rachel, had even bigger and blacker eyes than her mother ; 
but her forehead was low, her mouth large, and the expression 
of her face exceedingly stupid. The father of the family was a 
middle-aged man, with a well-bred air, and talked with an 



128 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Oriental politeness which was very refreshing. An English 
lady, who was of our party, said to hirn, through me, that if 
she possessed such a house she should be willing to remain 
in Damascus. " Why does she leave, then V* he immediately 
answered : " this is her house, and everything that is in 
it." Speaking of visiting Jerusalem, he asked me whether it 
was not a more beautiful city than Damascus. " It is not 
more beautiful/' I said, " but it is more holy," an expression 
which the whole company received with great satisfaction. 

The second house we visited was even larger and richer than 
the first, but had an air of neglect and decay. The elabs of 
rich marble were loose and broken, about the edges of the 
fountains ; the rich painting of the wood-work was beginning 
to fade ; and the balustrades leading to the upper chambers 
were broken off in places. We were ushered into a room, the 
walls and ceilings of which were composed entirely of gilded 
arabesque frame-work, set with small mirrors. When new, it 
must have had a gorgeous effect ; but the gold is now tar- 
nished, and the glasses dim. The mistress of the house was 
seated on the cushions, dividing her time between her pipe and 
her needle-work. She merely made a slight inclination of her 
head as we entered, and went on with her occupation. Pre- 
sently her two daughters and an Abyssinian slave appeared, 
and took their places on the cushions at her feet, the whole 
forming a charming group, which I regretted some of my 
artist friends at home could not see. The mistress was so 
exceedingly dignified, that she bestowed but few words on us. 
She seemed ttTr^esent our admiration of the slave, who was a 
most graceful creature ; yet her jealousy, it afterwards appear- 
ed, had reference to her own husband, for we had scarcely left. 



I 

I 



A CHRISTIAN GENTLEMAN. 



129 



when a servant followed to inform the English lady that if she 
was willing to buy the Abyssinian, the mistress would sell her 
at once for two thousand piastres. 

The last visit we paid was to the dwelling of a Maronite, 
the richest Christian in Damascus. The house resembled 
those we had already seen, except that, having been recently 
built, it was in better condition, and exhibited better taste 
in the ornaments. No one but the lady was allowed to enter 
the female apartments, the rest of us being entertained by the 
proprietor, a man of fifty, and without exception the hand- 
somest and most dignified person of that age I have ever seen. 
He was a king without a throne, and fascinated me completely 
by the noble elegance of his manner. In any country but the 
Orient, I should have pronounced him incapable of an unwor- 
thy thought : here, he may be exactly the reverse. 

Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the 
world, the date of its foundation going beyond tradition, there 
are very few relics of antiquity in or near it. In the bazaar 
are three large pillars, supporting half the pediment, which are 
said to have belonged to the Christian Church of St. John, 
but, if so, that church must have been originally a Roman 
temple. Part of the Roman walls and one of the city gates 
remain; and we saw the spot where, according to tradition, 
Saul was let down from the wall in a basket. There are two 
localities pointed out as the scene of his conversion, which, 
from his own account, occurred near the city. I visited a 
subterranean chapel claimed by the Latin monks to be the 
cellar of the house of Ananias, in which the Apostle was 
concealed. The cellar is, undoubtedly, of great antiquity; but 
as the whole quarter was for many centuries inhabited wholly 

6* 



130 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



by Turks, it would be curious to know how the monks ascer- 
tained which was the house of Ananias. As for the " street 
called Straight," it would be difficult at present to find any in 
Damascus corresponding to that epithet. 

The famous Damascus blades, so renowned in the time 
of the Crusaders, are made here no longer. The art has been 
lost for three or four centuries. Yet genuine old swords, of 
the true steel, are occasionally to be found. They are readily 
distinguished from modern imitations by their clear and silvery 
ring when struck, and by the finely watered appearance of the 
blade, produced by its having been first made of woven wire, 
and then worked over and over again until it attained the 
requisite temper. A droll Turk, who is the shekh ed-ddlal, or 
Chief of the Auctioneers, and is nicknamed Abou-Anteeka (the 
Father of the Antiques J, has a large collection of sabres, dag- 
gers, pieces of mail, shields, pipes, rings, seals, and other ancient 
articles. He demands enormous prices, but generally takes 
about one-third of what he first asks. I have spent several 
hours in his curiosity shop, bargaining for turquoise rings, car- 
buncles, Persian amulets, and Circassian daggers. While 
looking over some old swords the other day, I noticed one of 
exquisite temper, but with a shorter blade than usual. The 
point had apparently been snapped off in fight, but owing to 
the excellence of the sword, or the owner's affection for it, the 
steel had been carefully shaped into a new point. Abou- 
Anteeka asked five hundred piastres, and I, who had taken a 
particular fancy to possess it, offered him two hundred in an 
indifferent way, and then laid it aside to examine other 
articles. After his refusal to accept my offer, I said nothing 
more, and was leaving the shop, when the old fellow called me 



THE SWORD OF HAROUN. 



131 



back, saying : " You have forgotten your sword, which 
I thereupon took at my own price. I have shown it to Mr. 
Wood, the British Consul, who pronounced it an extremely 
fine specimen of Damascus steel ; and, on reading the inscrip- 
tion enamelled upon the blade, ascertains that it was made in 
the year of the Hegira, 181, which corresponds to a.d. 198. 
This was during the Caliphate of Haroun Al-Baschid, and 
who knows but the sword may have once flashed in the 
presence of that great and glorious sovereign — nay, been 
drawn by his own hand ! Who knows but that the Milan 
armor of the Crusaders may have shivered its point, on 
the field of Askalon ! I kiss the veined azure of thy blade, 
O Sword of Haroun ! I hang the crimson cords of thy scab- 
bard upon my shoulder, and thou shalt henceforth clank in sil- 
ver music at my side, singing to my ear, and mine alone, thy 
chants of battle, thy rejoicing songs of slaughter ! 

Yesterday evening, three gentlemen of Lord Dalkeith's 
party arrived from a trip to Palmyra. The road thither lies 
through a part of the Syrian Desert belonging to the Aneyzeh 
tribe, who are now supposed to be in league with the Druses, 
against the Government. Including this party, only six per- 
sons have succeeded in reaching Palmyra within a year, and 
two of them, Messrs. Noel and Cathcart, were imprisoned four 
days by the Arabs, and only escaped by the accidental depar- 
ture of a caravan for Damascus. The present party was 
obliged to travel almost wholly by night, running the gauntlet 
of a dozen Arab encampments, and was only allowed a day's 
stay at Palmyra. They were all disguised as Bedouins, 
and took nothing with them but the necessary provisions. 
They made their appearance here last evening, in long, white 



132 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



abas, with the Bedouin keffie bound over their heads, their 
faces burnt, their eyes inflamed, and their frames feverish with 
seven days and nights of travel. The shekh who conducted 
them was not an Aneyzeh, and would have lost his life had 
they fallen in with any of that tribe. 



THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH, 



CHAPTER X. 

THE VISIONS OP HASHEESH. 

" Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
Poaseaaed beyond the Muse's painting." 

Oollks. 

During my stay in Damascus, that insatiable cariosity which 
leads me to prefer the acquisition of all lawful knowledge 
through the channels of my own personal experience, rather 
than in less satisfactory and less laborious ways, induced me to 
make a trial of the celebrated Hasheesh — that remarkable drug 
which supplies the luxurious Syrian with dreams more alluring 
and more gorgeous than the Chinese extracts from his darling 
opium pipe. The use of Hasheesh — which is a preparation of 
the dried leaves of the cannabis indica — has been familiar to 
the East for many centuries. During the Crusades, it was 
frequently used by the Saracen warriors to stimulate them to 
the work of slaughter, and from the Arabic term of 11 Hashar 
sheen/ 9 or Eaters of Hasheesh, as applied to them, the word 
" assassin " has been naturally derived. An infusion of the 
same plant gives to the drink called " bhang," which is in com- 
mon use throughout India and Malaysia, its peculiar properties. 
Thus prepared, it is a more fierce and fatal stimulant thau tho 
paste of sugar and spices to which the Turk resorts, as the 
food of his voluptuous evening reveries. While its immediate 
effect* seem to be more potent than those of opium, its 



134 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEK. 



habitual use, though attended with ultimate and permanent 
injury to the system, rarely results in such utter wreck of 
mind and body as that to which the votaries of the latter drug 
inevitably condemn themselves. 

A previous experience of the effects of hasheesh — which I 
took once, and in a very mild form, while in Egypt — was so 
peculiar in its character, that my curiosity, instead of being 
satisfied, only prompted me the more to throw myself, for once, 
wholly under its influence. The sensations it then produced 
were those, physically, of exquisite lightness and airiness — 
mentally, of a wonderfully keen perception of the ludicrous, in 
the most simple and familiar objects. During the half hour in 
which it lasted, I was at no time so far under its control, that 
I could not, with the clearest perception, study the changes 
through which I passed. I noted, with careful attention, the 
fine sensations which spread throughout the whole tiisue of my 
nervous fibre, each thrill helping to divest my frame of its 
earthy and material nature, until my substance appeared to 
me no grosser than the vapors of the atmosphere, and while 
sitting in the calm of the Egyptian twilight, I expected to be 
lifted up and carried away by the first breeze that should ruffle 
the Nile. While this process was going on, the objects by 
which I was surrounded assumed a strange and whimsical 
expression. My pipe, the oars which my boatmen plied, the 
turban worn by the captain, the water-jars and culinary imple- 
ments, became in themselves so inexpressibly absurd and com- 
ical, that I was provoked into a long fit of laughter. The 
hallucination died away as gradually as it came, leaving me 
overcome with a soft and pleasant drowsiness, from which I 
sank into a deep, refreshing sleep. 



THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 



135 



My companion and an English gentleman, who, with his 
wife, was also residing in Antonio's pleasant caravanserai- 
agreed to join me in the experiment. The dragoman of the 
latter was deputed to procure a sufficient quantity of the drug, 
lie was a dark Egyptian, speaking only the lingua franca of 
the East, and asked me, as he took the money and departed 
on his mission, whether he should get hasheesh "per ridere, o 
per dormire T } " Oh, per ridere, of course," I answered ; "and 
see that it be strong and fresh." It is customary with the 
Syrians to take a small portion immediately before the evening 
meal, as it is thus diffused through the stomach and acts more 
gradually, as well as more gently, upon the system. As our 
dinner-hour was at sunset, I proposed taking hasheesh at that 
time, but my friends, fearing that its operation might be more 
speedy upon fresh subjects, and thus betray them into somo 
absurdity in the presence of the other travellers, preferred 
waiting until after the meal. It was then agreed that we 
should retire to our room, which, as it rose like a tower one 
story higher than the rest of the building, was in a manner 
isolated, and would screen us from observation. 

We commenced by taking a tea-spoonful each of the mixture 
which Abdallah had procured. This was about the quantity I 
had taken in Egypt, and as the effect then had been so slight, 
I judged that we ran no risk of taking an over-dose. The 
streugth of the drug, however, must have been far greater in 
this instance, for whereas I could in the former case distinguish 
no flavor but that of sugar and rose leaves, I now found the 
taste intensely bitter and repulsive to the palate. We allowed 
the paste to dissolve slowly on our tongues, and sat some time, 
quietly waiting the result. But, having been taken upon a 



136 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



fall stomach, its operation was hindered, and after the lapse 
of nearly an hour, we could not detect the least change in our 
feelings. My friends loudly expressed their conviction of the 
humbug of hasheesh, but I, unwilling to give up the experi- 
ment at this point, proposed that we should take an additional 
half spoouful, and follow it with a cup of hot tea, which, if 
there were really any virtue in the preparation, could not fail 
to call it into action. This was done, though not without 
some misgivings, as we were all ignorant of the precise quan- 
tity which constituted a dose, and the limits within which the 
drug could be taken with safety. It was now ten o'clock ; the 
streets of Damascus were gradually becoming silent, and the 
fair city was bathed in the yellow lustre of the Syrian moon. 
Only in the marble court-yard below us, a few dragomen and 
mukkairee lingered under the lemon-trees, aud beside the foun- 
tain iu the centre. 

I was seated alone, nearly iu the middle of the room, talking 
with my friends, who were lounging upon a sofa placed in a 
sort of alcove, at the farther end, when the same fine nervous 
thrill, of which I have spoken, suddenly shot through me. 
But this time it was accompanied with a burning sensatiou at 
the pit of the stomach ; and, instead of growing upon me with 
the gradual pace of healthy slumber, and resolving me, as ' 
before, into air, it came with the intensity of a pang, and shot 
throbbing along the nerves to the extremities of my body. The 
sense of limitation — of the confinement of our senses within 
the bounds of our own flesh and blood — instantly fell away. 
The walls of my frame were burst outward and tumbled into 
ruin ; and, without thinking what form I wore — losing sight 
even of all idea of form— I felt that I existed throughout a 



THE VISIONS OP HASHEESH. 



13T 



vast extent of space. The blood, pulsed from my heart, sped 
through uncounted leagues before it reached my extremities ; 
the air drawn into my lungs expanded into seas of limpid 
ether, and the arch of my skull was broader than the vault of 
heaveu. Withiu the concave that held my brain, were the 
fathomless deeps of blue ; clouds floated there, and the winds 
of heaven rolled them together, and there shone the orb of the 
sun. It was — though I thought not of that at the time — like 
a revelation of the mystery of omnipresence. It is diflcult to 
describe this sensation, or the rapidity with which it mastered 
me. In the state of mental exaltation in which I was then 
plunged, all sensations, as they rose, suggested more or less 
coherent images. They presented themselves to me in a double 
form : one physical, and therefore to a certain extent tangible ; 
the other spiritual, and revealing itself in a succession of splen- 
did metaphors. The physical feeling of extended being was 
accompanied by the image of an exploding meteor, not sub- 
siding into darkness, but continuing to shoot from its centre or 
nucleus — which corresponded to the burning spot at the pit of 
my stomach — incessant adumbrations of light that finally lost 
themselves in the intlnity of space. To my mind, even now, 
this image is still the best illustration of my sensations, as I 
recall them ; but I greatly doubt whether the reader will find 
it equally clear. 

My curiosity was now in a way of being satisfied ; the 
Spirit (demon, shall I not rather say?) of Hasheesh had entire 
possession of me. I was cast upon the flood of his illusions, and 
drifted helplessly whithersoever they might choose to bear me. 
The thrills which ran through my nervous system became more 
rapid and fierce, accompanied with sensations that steeped my 



188 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



whole being in unutterable rapture. I was encompassed by a 
sea of light, through which played the pure, harmonious colors 
that are born of light. While endeavoring, in broken expres- 
sions, to describe my feeliugs to my friends, who sat looking 
upon me incredulously — not yet having been affected by the 
drug — I suddenly found myself at the foot of the great Pyra-^ 
mid of Cheops. The taperiug courses of yellow limestone 
gleamed like gold in the sun, and the pile rose so high that it 
seemed to lean for support upon the blue arch of the sky. I 
wished to ascend it, and the wish alone placed me immediately 
upon its apex, lifted thousands of feet above the wheat-fields 
and palm-groves of Egypt. I cast my eyes downward, and, 
to my astonishment, saw that it was built, not of limestone, 
but of huge square plugs of Cavendish tobacco 1 Words can- 
not paint the overwhelming sense of the ludicrous which I 
then experienced. I writhed on my chair in an agony of 
laughter, which was only relieved by the vision melting away 
like a dissolving view ; till, out of my confusion of indistinct 
images and fragments of images, another and more wonderful 
vision arose. 

The more vividly I recall the scene which followed, the more 
carefully I restore its different features, and separate the many 
threads of sensation which it wove into one gorgeous web, the 
more I despair of representing its exceeding glory. I was 
moving over the Desert, not upon the rocking dromedary, but 
seated in a barque made of mother-of-pearl, and studded "with 
jewels of surpassing lustre. The sand was of grains of gold, 
and my keel slid through them without jar or souud. The air 
was radiant with excess of light, though no sun was to be seeu 
I inhaled the most delicions perfumes ; and harmonies, such as 



THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 



139 



Beethoven may have heard in dreams, but never wrote, floated 
around me. The atmosphere itself was light, odor, music ; 
and each and all sublimated beyond anything the sober senses 
are capable of receiving. Before me — for a thousand leagues, 
as it seemed — stretched a vista of rainbows, whose colors 
gleamed with the splendor of gems — arches of living amethyst, 
sapphire, emerald, topaz, and ruby. By thousands and tens 
of thousands, they flew past me, as my dazzling barge sped 
down the magnificent arcade ; yet the vista still stretched as 
far as ever before me, I revelled in a sensuous elysium, which 
was perfect, because no sense was left ungratified. But beyond 
all, my mind was filled with a boundless feeling of triumph. 
My journey was that of a conqueror — not of a conqueror who 
subdues his race, either by Love or by Will, for I forgot that 
Man existed — but one victorious over the grandest as well as 
the subtlest forces of Nature. The spirits of Light, Color, 
Odor, Sound, and Motion were my slaves ; and, having these, 
I was master of the universe. 

Those who are endowed to any extent with tho imaginative 
faculty, must have at least once in their lives experienced feel- 
iugs which may give them a clue to the exalted sensuous 
raptures of my triumphal march The view of a sublime 
mountain landscape, the hearing of a grand orchestral sym- 
phony, or of a choral upborne by the " full-voiced organ," or 
even the beauty and luxury of a cloudless summer day, sug- 
gests emotions similar in kind, if less intense. They took a 
warmth and glow from that pure animal joy which degrades 
not, but spiritualizes and ennobles our material part, and 
which differs from cold, abstract, intellectual enjoyment, as the 
flaming diamond of the Orient differs from the icicle of the 



140 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX. 



North. Those finer senses, which occupy a middle ground 
between our animal and intellectual appetites, were suddenly 
developed to a pitch beyond what I had ever dreamed, nud 
being thus at one and the same time gratified to the fullest 
extent of their preternatural capacity, the result was a single 
harmonious sensation, to describe which human language has 
no epithet. Mahomet's Paradise, with its palaces of ruby and 
emerald, its airs of musk and cassia, and its rivers colder than 
snow and sweeter than honey, would have been a poor and 
mean terminus for my arcade of rainbows. Yet in the charac- 
ter of this paradise, in the gorgeous fancies of tho Arabiau 
lights, in the glow and luxury of all Oriental poetry, I now 
recognize more or less of the agency of hasheesh. 

The fulness of my rapture expanded the sense of time ; and 
though the whole vision was probably not more than five 
minutes in passing through my mind, years seemed to have 
elapsed while I shot under the dazzling myriads of rainbow 
arches. By «nnd by, the rainbows, the barque of pearl and 
jewels, and the desert of goldeu sand, vanished ; and, still 
bathed in light and perfume, I found myself in a land of green 
and flowery lawns, divided by hills of gently undulating out- 
line. But, although the vegetation was the richest of earth, 
there were neither streams nor fountains to be seen ; and tho 
people who came from the hills, with brilliant garments that 
shone in the sun, besought me to give them the blessing of 
water. Their hands were full of branches of the coral honey- 
suckle, in bloom. These I took ; and, breaking off the flowers 
one by one, set them in the earth. The slender, trumpet-like 
tubes immediately became shafts of masonry, and sank deep 
into the earth ; the lip of the flower changed into a circular 



THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 141 

mouth of rose-eolorcd marble, and the people, leaning over its 
brink, lowered their pitchers to the bottom with cords, aud 
drew them up again, tilled to the brim, and dripping with 
honey, 

The most remarkable feature of these illusions was, that at 
the time when 1 was most completely under their influence, I 
knew myself to be seated in the tower of Antonio's hotel in 
Damascus, knew that I had taken hasheesh, and that the 
strange, gorgetus and ludicrous fancies which possessed me, 
were the effect of it. At the very same instant that I looked 
upon the Valley of the Nile from the pyramid, slid over the 
Desert, or created my marvellous wells in that beautiful pasto- 
ral country, 1 saw the furniture of my room, its mosaic pave- 
ment, the (juaint Saracenic niches in the walls, the painted and 
gilded beams of the ceiling, and the couch in the recess before 
me, with my two companions watching me. Both sensations 
were simultaneous, and equally palpable. While I was most 
given up to the magnificent delusion, 1 saw its cause and felt 
its absurdity most clearly. Metaphysicians say that the mind 
is incapable of performing two operations at the same time, 
and may attempt to explain this phenomenon by supposing a 
rapid and incessant vibration of the perceptions between the 
two states. This explanation, however, is not satisfactory to 
me ; for not more clearly does a skilful musician with the 
same breath blow two distinct musical notes from a bugle, thau 
I was conscious of two distinct conditions of being in the same 
moment. Yet, singular as it may seem, neither conflicted with 
the other. My enjoyment of the visions was complete and 
absolute, uudisturbed by the faintest doubt of their reality ; 
While, in some other chamber of my brain, Reason sat coolly 



142 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



watching them, and heaping the liveliest ridicule oa their fan* 
tastic features. One set of nerves was thrilled with the bliss 
of the gods, while another was convulsed with unquenchable 
laughter at that very bliss. My highest ecstacies could not 
bear down and silence the weight of my ridicule, which, in its 
turu, was powerless to prevent me from runniug into other and 
more gorgeous absurdities. I was double, not "swan and 
shadow," but rather, Sphinx-like, human and beast. A true 
Sphinx, I was a riddle and a mystery to myself. 

The drug, which had been retarded in its operation on 
account of having been taken after a meal, now began to 
make itself more powerfully felt. The visions were more gro- 
tesque than ever, but less agreeable ; and there was a painful 
tension throughout my nervous system — the effect of over-sti- 
mulus. I was a mass of transparent jelly, and a confectioner 
poured me into a twisted mould. I threw my chair aside, and 
writhed and tortured myself for some time to force my loose 
substance into the mould. At last, when I had so far suc- 
ceeded that only one foot remained outside, it was lifted 
off, and another mould, of still more crooked and intricate 
shape, substituted. I have no doubt that the contortions through 
which I went, to accomplish the end of my gelatinous destiny, 
would have been extremely ludicrous to a spectator, but to me 
they were painful and disagreeable. The sober half of me 
went into fits of laughter over them, and through that laugh- 
ter, my vision shifted into another scene. I had laughed until 
my eyes overflowed profusely. Every drop that fell, immedi- 
ately became a large loaf of bread, and tumbled upon the 
shop-board of a baker in the bazaar at Damascus. The more 
I laughed, the faster the loaves fell, until such a pile was 



THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 



143 



raised about the baker, that I could hardly see the top of 
his head. 11 The raau will be suffocated," I cried, M but if he 
were to die, I cannot stop V 7 

My perceptions now became more dim and confused. I felt 
that I was in the grasp of some giant force ; and, in the glim- 
mering of my fading reason, grew earnestly alarmed, for the 
terrible stress under which my frame labored increased every 
moment. A fierce and furious heat radiated from my stomach 
throughout my system ; my mouth and throat were as dry and 
hard as if made of brass, and my tongue, it seemed to me, was a 
bar of rusty iron. I seized a pitcher of water, and drank long 
and deeply ; but I might as well have drunk so much air, for not 
only did it impart no moisture, but my palate and throat gave me 
no intelligence of having druuk at all. I stood in the centre of 
the room, brandishing my arms convulsively, and heaving 
sighs that seemed to shatter my whole being. " Will no 
one," I cried in distress, " cast out this devil that has posses- 
sion of me ?" I no longer saw the room nor my friends, but I 
heard one of them saying, " It must be real ; he could not 
counterfeit such an expression as that. But it don't look 
much like pleasure." Immediately afterwards there was a 
scream of the wildest laughter, and my countryman sprang 
upon the floor, exclaiming, " 0, ye gods 1 I am a locomotive 1" 
This was his ruling hallucination ; and, for the space of two or 
three hours, he continued to pace to and fro with a measured 
stride, exhaling his breath in violent jets, and when he spoke, 
dividing his words into syllables, each of which he brought out 
with a jerk, at the same time turning his hands at his sides, as 
if they were the cranks of imaginary wheels. The English- 
man, as soon as he felt the dose beginning to take effect, pru- 



144 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



dently retreated to his own room, and what the nature of his 

visions was, we never learned, for he refused to tell, and, 
moreover, enjoined the strictest silence on his wife, 

By this time it was nearly midnight. I had passed through 
the Paradise of Hasheesh, and was plunged at once into its 
fiercest Ilell. In my ignorance I had taken what, I have 
since learned, would have been a sufficient portion for six men, 
aud was now paying a frightful penalty for my curiosity. The 
excited blood rushed through my frame with a sound like the 
roaring of mighty waters. It was projected iuto my eyes until 
I could no longer see ; it beat thickly in my ears, and so 
throbbed in my heart, that I feared the ribs would give way 
under its blows. I tore open my vest, placed my hand over 
the spot, and tried to count the pulsations ; but there were 
two hearts, one beating at the rate of a thousaud beats a 
minute, and the other with a slow, dull motion. My throat, I 
thought, was tilled to the brim with blood, and streams of 
blood were pouring from my ears. I felt them gushing warm 
down my cheeks and neck. With a maddened, desperate feel- 
ing, I fled from the room, and walked over the flat, terraced 
roof of the house. My body seemed to shrink and grow rigid 
as I wrestled with the demon, and my face to become wild, 
lean and haggard. Some lines which had struck me, years 
before, in reading Mrs. Browning's " Rhyme of the Duchess 
May," flashed into my mind : — 

'* And the horse, in stark de?pair, with his front hoofs poised in air. 

On the last verge, rears amain ; 
And he hangs, he rocks between— and his nostrils cupdle In — 
And he shivers, head and hoof, and the flakes of foam fall off; 

And his face grows fierce and thin." 



THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 



145 



That picture of animal terror and agony was mine. I was the 
horse, hanging poised on the verge of the giddy tower, the 
next moment to be borne sheer down to destruction. Involun- 
tarily, I raised my hand to feel the leanness and sharpness of 
my face. Oh horror ! the flesh had fallen from my bones, and 
it was a skeleton head that I carried on my shoulders 1 With 
one bound I sprang to the parapet, and looked down into the 
silent courtyard, then filled with the shadows thrown into it by 
the sinking moon. Shall I cast myself down headlong ? was 
the question I proposed to myself ; but though the horror of 
that skeleton delusion was greater than my fear of death, there 
was an invisible hand at my breast which pushed me away from 
the brink. 

I made my way back to the room, in a state of the keenest 
suffering. My companion was still a locomotive, rushing to 
and fro, and jerking out his syllables with the disjointed accent 
peculiar to a steam-engine. His mouth had turned to brass, 
like mine, and he raised the pitcher to his lips in the attempt 
to moisten it, but before he had taken a mouthful, set the 
pitcher down again with a yell of laughter, crying out : " IIow 
can I take water into my boiler, while I am letting off steam V 

But I was now too far gone to feel the absurdity of this, or 
his other exclamations. I was sinking deeper and deeper into 
a pit of unutterable agony and despair. For, although I was 
not conscious of real pain in any part of my body, the cruel 
tension to which my nerves had been subjected filled me 
through and through with a sensation of distress which was 
far more severe than pain itself. In addition to this, the rem- 
nant of will with which I struggled against the demon, became 
gradually weaker, and I felt that I should soon be powerless 

I 



146 



THR LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 



in his bauds. Every effort to preserve my reason was accom* 
panied by a pang of mortal fear, lest what I now experienced 
was insanity, and would hold mastery over me for ever. Tho 
thought of death, which also haunted me, was far less bitter 
than this dread. I knew that in the struggle which was going 
on in my frame, I was borne fearfully near the dark gulf, and 
the thought that, at such a time, both reason and will were 
leaving my braiu, filled me with an agony, tho depth and 
blackness of which I should vainly attempt to portray. I 
threw myself on my bed, with the excited blood still roaring 
wildly in my ears, my heart throbbing with a force that seemed 
to be rapidly wearing away my life, my throat dry as a pot- 
sherd, and my stiffened tongue cleaving to the roof of my 
mouth — resisting no longer, but awaiting my fate with the 
apathy of despair. 

My companion was now approaching the same condition, 
but as the effect of the drug on him had been less violent, so 
his stage of suffering was more clamorous. He cried out to 
me that he was dying, implored me to help him, and reproached 
me vehemently, because I lay there silent, motionless, and 
apparently careless of his danger. "Why will ho disturb 
mo ?" I thought ; H he thinks he is dying, but what is death to 
madness T Let him die ; a thousand deaths were more easily 
borne than the pangs I suffer." Whilo I was sufficiently con- 
scious to hear his exclamations, they only provoked my keen 
anger ; but after a time, my senses became clouded, and I 
sank into a stupor. As near as I can judge, this must have 
been three o'clock in the morniug, rather moro than five 
Lours after the hasheesh began to take effect. I lay thus all 
the following day and night, in a state of gray, blank oblivion, 



THE VI810N8 OF HASHEESH. 



147 



broken only by a single wandering gleam of consciousness. I 
recollect bearing Francois' voice, lie told me afterwards that 
I arose, attempted to dress myself, drank two cups of coffee, 
and then fell back into the same death-like stupor ; but of all 
this, I did not retain the least knowledge. On the morniug of 
the second day, after a sleep of thirty hours, I awoke again to 
the world, with a system utterly prostrate and unstrung, and 
a brain clouded with the lingering images of my visions. I 
knew where I was, and what had happened to me, but all that 
I saw still remained unreal and shadowy. There was no taste 
in what I ate, no refreshment in what 1 drank, and it required 
a painful effort to comprehend what was said to me and return 
a coherent answer. Will and Reason had come back, but they 
Still sat unsteadily upon their thrones. 

My friend, who was much further advanced in his recovery, 
accompanied me to the adjoining bath, which I hoped would 
assist in restoring me. It was with great difficulty that I pre- 
served the outward appearance of consciousness. In spite of 
myself, a veil now and then fell over my mind, and after 
wandering for years, as it seemed, in some distant world, I 
awoke with a shock, to find myself in the steamy halls of the 
bath, with a brown Syrian polishiug my limbs. I suspect that 
my language must have been rambling and incoherent, and 
that the menials who had me in charge understood my condi- 
tion, for as soon as I had stretched myself upon the couch 
which follows the bath, a glass of very acid sherbet was pre- 
sented to me, and after drinking it I experienced instant relief. 
Still the spell was not wholly broken, and for two or three 
days I continued subject to frequent involuntary fits of absence, 
which made me insensible, for the time, to all that was passing 



148 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



around me. I walked the streets of Damascus with a strange 

consciousness that I was in some other place at the same time, 
and with a constant effort to reunite my divided perceptions. 

Previous to the experiment, wc had decided on making a 
bargain with the shekh for the journey to Palmyra. The 
state, however, in which-: we now found ourselves, obliged us to 
relinquish the plan. Perhaps tho excitement of a forced march 
across the desert, and a conflict with the hostile Arabs, which 
was quite likely to happen, might have assisted us in throwing 
off the baneful effects of the drug ; but all the charm which 
lay in the name of Palmyra and the romantic interest of the 
trip, was gone. I was without courage and without energy, 
and nothing remained for me but to leave Damascus. 

Yet, fearful as my rash experiment proved to me, I did not 
regret having made it. It revealed to rac deeps of rapture 
and of suffering which my natural faculties never could have 
sounded. It has taught me the majesty of human reason and 
of human will, even in the weakest, and the awful peril of 
tampering with that which assails their integrity. I have here 
faithfully and fully written out my experience, on account of 
the lesson which it may convey to others. If I have unfortu* 
nately failed in my design, and have but awakened that restless 
enriosity which I have endeavored to forestall, let me beg all 
who are thereby led to repeat the experiment upon themselves, 
that they be content to take the portion of hasheesh which is 
considered sufficient for one man, and not, like me, swallow 
enough for six. 



A DISSERTATION ON BATHING AND BODIES. 119 



CHAPTER XI. 

A DISSERTATION ON BATHING AND BODIES 

" No swan-soft woman, rubbed witb lucid oils, 
The gift of an enamored god, more fair." 

Browning. 

We shall not set out from Damascus — we shall not lea r e the 
Pearl of the Orient to glimmer through the seas of foliage 
wherein it lies buried — without consecrating a day to the 
Bath, that material agent of peace and good- will unto men. 
We have bathed in the Jordan, like Naainan, and been made 
clean ; let us now see whether Abana and Pharpar, rivers of 
Damascus, are better than the waters of Israel. 

The Bath is the " peculiar institution" of the East. Coffee 
has become colonized in France and America ; the Pipe is a 
cosmopolite, and his blue, joyous breath congeals under 
the Arctic Circle, or melts languidly into the soft airs of the 
Polynesian Isles ; but the Bath, that sensuous elysium which 
cradled the dreams of Plato, and the visions of Zoroaster, and 
the solemn meditations of Mahomet, is only to be found under 
an Oriental sky. The naked natives of the Torrid Zone 
are amphibious ; they do not bathe, they live in the water. 
The European and Anglo-American wash themselves and 
think they have bathed ; they shudder under cold showers and 



150 



THE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN'. 



perform laborious antics with coarse towels. As for the 
HydropatMst, the Genius of the Bath, whose dwelling is 
in Damascus, would be convulsed with scornful laughter, could 
he behold that aqueous Diogenes sitting in his tub, or stretched 
out in his wet wrappings, like a sodden mummy, in a cata- 
comb of blankets and feather beds. As the rose in the East 
has a rarer perfume than in other lands, so does the Bath 
bestow a superior purification and impart a more profound 
enjoyment. 

Listen not unto the lamentations of travellers, who complain " 
of the heat, and the steam, and the dislocations of their joints. 
They belong to the stiff-necked generation, who resist the pro- 
cesses, whereunto the Oriental yields himself body and soul. 
He who is bathed in Damascus, must be as clay in the hands 
of a potter. The Syrians marvel how the Franks can walk, 
so difficult is it to bend their joints. Moreover, they know the 
difference between him who comes to the Bath out of a mere 
idle curiosity, and him who has tasted its delight and holds it 
in due honor. Only the latter is permitted to know all its 
mysteries. The former is carelessly hurried through the ordi- 
nary forms of bathing, and, if any trace of the cockney remain 
in him, is quite as likely to be disgusted as pleased. Again, 
there are many second and third-rate baths, whither cheating 
dragomen conduct their victims, in consideration of a division 
of spoils with the bath-keeper. Hence it is, that the Bath has 
received but partial justice at the hands of tourists in the 
East. If any one doubts this, let him clothe himself with 
Oriental passiveness and resignation, go to the Hamman 
el-Khyateen, at Damascus, or the Bath of Mahmoud Pasha, 
at Constantinople, and demand that he be perfectly bathed. 



THE BATH, 151 

Come with me, and I will show you the mysteries of the 
perfect bath. Here is the entrance, a heavy Saracenic arch, 
opening upon the crowded bazaar. We descend a few steps to 
the marble pavement of a lofty octagonal hall, lighted by a 
dome. There is a jet of sparkling water in the centre, falling 
into a heavy stone basin. A platform about five feet in height 
runs around the hall, and on this are ranged a number of nar- 
row couches, with their heads to the wall, like the pallets in 
a hospital ward. The platform is covered with straw mat- 
ting, and from the wooden gallery which rises above it are 
suspended towels, with blue and crimson borders. The master 
of the bath receives us courteously, and conducts us to one of 
the vacant couches. We kick off our red slippers below, and 
mount the steps to the platform. Yonder traveller, in Frank 
dress, who has just entered, goes up with his boots on, and we 
Know, from that fact, what sort of a bath he will get. 

As the work of disrobing proceeds, a dark-eyed boy appears 
with a napkin, which he holds before us, ready to bind it about 
the waist, as soon as we regain our primitive form. Another 
attendant throws a napkin over our shoulders and wraps a 
third around our head, turban-wise. He then thrusts a pair of 
wooden clogs upon our feet, and, taking us by the arm, steadies 
our tottering and clattering steps, as we pass through a low 
door and a warm ante-chamber into the first hall of the bath. 
The light, falling dimly through a cluster of bulFs-eyes in the 
domed ceiling, shows, first, a silver thread of water, playing 
in a steamy atmosphere ; next, some dark motionless objects, 
stretched out on a low central platform of marble. The 
attendant spreads a. linen sheet in one of the vacant places, 
places a pillow at one end, takes off our clogs, deposits us 



152 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



gently on our back, and leaves us. The pavement is warm 
beneath us, and the first breath we draw gives us a sense of 
suffocation. But a bit of burning aloe-wood has just been 
carried through the hall, and the steam is permeated with fra- 
grance. The dark-eyed boy appears with a narghileh, which 
he places beside us, offering the amber mouth-piece to our sub- 
missive lips. The smoke we inhale has an odor of roses ; and 
as the pipe bubbles with our breathing, we feel that the dews 
of sweat gather heavily upon us. The attendant now re- 
appears, kneels beside us, and gently kneads us with dexterous 
hands. Although no anatomist, he knows every muscle and 
sinew whose suppleness gives ease to the body, and so moulds 
and manipulates them that we lose the rigidity of our mechan- 
ism, and become plastic in his hands. He turns us upon our 
face, repeats the same process upon the back, and leaves us a 
little longer to lie there passively, glistening in our own dew. 

We are aroused from a reverie about nothing by a dark- 
brown shape, who replaces the clogs, puts his arm around our 
waist and leads us into an inner hall, with a steaming tank in 
the centre. Here he slips us off the brink, and we collapse 
over head and ears in the fiery fluid. Once — twice — we dip 
into the delicious heat, and then are led into a marble alcove, 
and seated fiat upon the floor. The attendant stands behind 
us, and we now perceive that his hands are encased in dark 
hair-gloves. He pounces upon an arm, which he rubs until, 
like a serpent, we slough the worn-out skin, and resume our 
infantile smoothness and fairness. Xo man can be called clean 
until he has bathed in the East. Let him walk directly from 
his accustomed bath and self-friction with towels, to the Ham- 
mam el-Khyateen, and the attendant will exclaim, as he shakes 



THE BATH, 



153 



out his hair-gloves : " Frank ! it is a long time since you 
have bathed." The other arm follows, the back, the breast, 
the legs, until the work is complete, and we know precisely how 
a horse feels after he has been curried. 

Kow the attendant turns two cocks at the back of the 
alcove, and holding a basin alternately under the cold and hot 
streams, floods us at first with a fiery dash, that sends a deli- 
cious warm shiver through every nerve ; then, with milder 
applications, lessening the temperature of the water by semi- 
tones, until, from the highest key of heat which we can bear, 
we glide rapturously down the gamut until we reach the 
lowest bass of coolness. The skin has by this time attained an 
exquisite sensibility, and answers to these changes of tempera- 
ture with thrills of the purest physical pleasure. In fact, the 
whole frame seems purged of its earthy nature and trans- 
formed into something of a finer and more delicate texture. 

After a pause, the attendant makes his appearance with a 
large wooden bowl, a piece of soap, and a bunch of palm- 
fibres. He squats down beside the bowl, and speedily creates 
a mass of snowy lather, which grows up to a pyramid and 
topples over the edge. Seizing us by the crown-tuft of hair 
upon our shaven head, he plants the foamy bunch of fibres full 
in our face. The world vanishes ; sight, hearing, smell, taste 
(unless w^e open oar mouth), and breathing, are cut off; we 
have become nebulous. Although our eyes are shut, we seem 
to see a blank whiteness ; and, feeling nothing but a soft 
fleeciness, we doubt whether we be not the Olympian cloud 
which visited Io. But the cloud clears away before strangula- 
tion begins, and the velvety mass descends upon the body. 
Twice we are thus " slushed" from head to foot, and made 

7* 



154 



THE LANDS OF THE SABACE>T. 



more slippery than the anointed wrestlers of the Greek games. 
Then the basin comes again into play, and we glide once more 
musically through the scale of temperature. 

The brown sculptor has now nearly completed his task. The 
figure of clay which entered the bath is transformed into 
polished marble. He turns the body from side to side, and 
lifts the limbs to see whether the workmanship is adequate to 
his conception. His satisfied gaze proclaims his success. A 
skilful bath- attendant has a certain aesthetic pleasure in his 
occupation. The bodies he polishes become to some extent 
his own workmanship, and he feels responsible for their 
symmetry or deformity. He experiences a degree of triumph 
in contemplating a beautiful form, which has grown more airily 
light and beautiful under his hands. He is a great connoisseur 
of bodies, and could pick you out the finest specimens with as 
ready an eye as an artist. 

I envy those old Greek bathers, into whose hands were 
delivered Pericles, and Alcibiades, and the perfect models of 
Phidias. - They had daily before their eyes the highest types 
of Beauty which the world has ever produced ; for of all 
things that are beautiful, the human body is the crown. Now, 
since the delusion of artists has been overthrown, and we know 
that Grecian Art is but the simple reflex of Nature — that the 
old masterpieces of sculpture were no miraculous embodiments 
of a beau ideal, but copies of living forms — we must admit 
that in no other age of the world has the physical Man been 
so perfectly developed. The nearest approach I have ever 
seen to the symmetry of ancient sculpture was among the 
Arab tribes of Ethiopia. Our Saxon race can supply the 
athlete, but not the Apollo. 



CIRCASSIAN BEAUTY. 



155 



Oriental life is too full of repose, and the Ottoman race has 
become too degenerate through indulgence, to exhibit many 
striking specimens of physical beauty. The face is generally 
fine, but the body is apt to be lank, and with imperfect muscu- 
lar development. The best forms I saw in the baths were 
those of laborers, who, with a good deal of rugged strength, 
showed some grace and harmony of proportion. It may be 
received as a general rule, that the physical development of 
the European is superior to that of the Oriental, with the 
exception of the Circassians and Georgians, whose beauty well 
entitles them to the distinction of giving their name to our 
race. 

So far as female beauty is concerned, the Circassian women 
have no superiors. They have preserved in their mountain 
home the purity of the Grecian models, and still display the 
perfect physical loveliness, whose type has descended to us in 
the Venus de Medici. The Frank who is addicted to wander- 
ing about the streets of Oriental cities can hardly fail to be 
favored with a sight of the faces of these beauties. More than 
once it has happened to me, in meeting a veiled lady, sailing 
along in ber balloon-like feridjee, that she has allowed the veil 
to drop by a skilful accident, as she passed, and has startled 
me with the vision of her beauty, recalling the line of the Per- 
sian poet: " Astonishment ! is this the dawn of the glorious 
sun, or is it the full moon ?" The Circassian face is a pure 
oval ; the forehead is low and fair, " an excellent thing in 
woman," and the skin of an ivory whiteness, except the faint 
pink of the cheeks and the ripe, roseate stain of the lips. The 
hair is dark, glossy, and luxuriant, exquisitely outlined on the 
temples ; the eyebrows slightly arched, and drawn with a 



156 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



delicate pencil; while lashes like ' 1 rays of darkness" shade 
the large, dark, humid orbs below them. The alabaster of the 
face, so pure as scarcely to show the blue branching of the 
veins on the temples, is lighted by those superb eyes — 

"Shining eyes, like antique jewels set in Parian statue-stone," 

— whose wells are so dark and deep, that you are cheated into 
the belief that a glorious soul looks out of them. 

Once, by an unforeseen chance, I beheld the Circassian form, 
in its most perfect development. I was on board an Austrian 
steamer in the harbor of Smyrna, when the harem of a Turk- 
ish pasha came out in a boat to embark for Alexandria. The 
sea was rather rough, and nearly all the officers of the steamer 
were ashore. There were six veiled and swaddled women, with 
a black eunuch as guard, in the boat, which lay tossing for some 
time at the foot of the gangway ladder, before the frightened 
passengers could summon courage to step out. At last the 
youngest of them — a Circassian girl of not more than fifteen 
or sixteen years of age — ventured upon the ladder, clasping the 
hand-rail with one hand, while with the other she held together 
the folds of her cumbrous feridjee. I was standing in the 
gangway, watching her, when a slight lurch of the steamer 
caused her to loose her hold of the garment, which, fastened 
At the neck, was blown back from her shoulders, leaving her 
body screened but by a single robe of light, gauzy silk. 
Through this, the marble whiteness of her skin, the roundness, 
the glorious symmetry of her form, flashed upon me, as a vision 
of Aphrodite, seen 



"Through leagues of shimmering water, like a star." 



THE HUMAN BODY. 



157 



It was but a momentary glimpse ; yet that moment convinced 
me that forms of Phidian perfection are still nurtured in the 
vales of Caucasus. 

The necessary disguise of dress hides from us much of the 
beauty and dignity of Humanity. I have seen men who 
appeared heroic in the freedom of nakedness, shrink almost into 
absolute vulgarity, when clothed. The soul not only sits at 
the windows of the eyes, and hangs upon the gateway of the 
lips ; she speaks as well in the intricate, yet harmonious lines 
of the body, and the ever-varying play of the limbs. Look at 
the torso of Ilioneus, the son of Niobe, and see what an agony 
of terror and supplication cries out from that headless and 
limbless trunk ! Decapitate Laocoon, and his knotted muscles 
will still express the same dreadful suffering and resistance. 
None knew this better than the ancient sculptors ; and hence 
it was that we find many of their statues of distinguished men 
wholly or partly undraped. Such a view of Art would be 
considered transcendental now-a-days, when our dress, our cos- 
tumes, and our modes of speech either ignore the existence of 
our bodies, or treat them with little of that reverence which is 
their due. 

But, while we have been thinking these thoughts, the 
attendant has been waiting to give us a final plunge into the 
seething tank. Again we slide down to the eyes in the fluid 
heat, which wraps us closely about until we tingle with exqui- 
site hot shiverings. Xow comes the graceful boy, with clean, 
cool, lavendered napkins, which he folds around our waist and 
wraps softly about the head. The pattens are put upon our 
feet, and the brown arm steadies us gently through the sweat- 
ing-room and ante-chamber into the outer hall, where we mount 



158 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



to our couch. We sink gently upon the cool linen, and the 
boy covers us with a perfumed sheet. Then, kneeling beside 
the couch, he presses the folds of the sheet around us, that it 
may absorb the lingering moisture and the limpid perspiration 
shed by the departing heat. As fast as the linen becomes 
damp, he replaces it with fresh, pressing the folds about us as 
tenderly as a mother arranges the drapery of her sleeping 
babe ; for we, though of the stature of a man, are now infan- 
tile in our helpless happiness. Then he takes our passive 
hand and warms its palm by the soft friction of his own ; 
after which, moving to the end of the couch, he lifts our 
feet upon his lap, and repeats the friction upon their soles, 
until the blood comes back to the surface of the body with a 
misty glow, like that which steeps the clouds of a summer 
afternoon. 

We have but one more process to undergo, and the attend- 
ant already stands at the head of our couch. This is the 
course of passive gymnastics, which excites so much alarm and 
resistance in the ignorant Franks. It is only resistance that 
is dangerous, completely neutralizing the enjoyment of the pro- 
cess. Give yourself with a blind submission into the arms of 
the brown Fate, and he will lead you to new chambers- of 
delight. He lifts us to a sitting posture, places himself behind 
as, and folds his arms around our body, alternately tightening 
and relaxing his clasp, as if to test the elasticity of the ribs. 
Then seizing one arm, he draws it across the opposite shoulder, 
until the joint cracks like a percussion-cap. The shoulder- 
blades, the elbows, the wrists, and the finger-joints are all made 
to fire off their muffled volleys ; and then, placing one knee 
between our shoulders, and clasping both hands upon our fore- 



THE BATH. 



159 



head, he draws our head back until we feel a great snap of the 
vertebral column. Now he descends to the hip-joints, knees, 
ankles, and feet, forcing each and all to discharge a salvo de 
joie. The slight languor left from the bath is gone, and an 
airy, delicate exhilaration, befitting the winged Mercury, takes 
its place. 

The boy, kneeling, presents us with a finjan of foamy coffee, 
followed by a glass of sherbet cooled with the snows of Leba- 
non. He presently returns with a narghileh, which we smoke 
by the effortless inhalation of the lungs. Thus we lie in per- 
fect repose, soothed by the fragrant weed, and idly watching 
the silent Orientals, who are undressing for the bath or reposing 
like ourselves. Through the arched entrance, we see a picture 
of the bazaars : a shadowy painting of merchants seated amid 
their silks and spices, dotted here and there with golden drops 
and splashes of sunshine, which have trickled through the roof. 
The scene paints itself upon our eyes, yet wakes no slightest 
stir of thought. The brain is a becalmed sea, without a ripple 
on its shores. Mind and body are drowned in delicious rest ; 
and we no longer remember what we are. We only know that 
there- is an Existence somewhere in the air, and that wherever 
it is, and whatever it may be, it is happy. 

More and more dim grows the picture. The colors fade and 
blend into each other, and finally merge into a bed of rosy 
clouds, flooded with the radiance of some unseen sun. Gentlier 
than " tired eyelids upon tired eyes," sleep lies upon our 
senses : a half-conscious sleep, wherein we know that we behold 
light and inhale fragrance. As gently, the clouds dissipate 
into air, and we are born again into the world. The Bath is 
at an end. We arise and put on our garments, and walk forth 



160 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



into the sunny streets of Damascus. But as we go homewards, 
we involuntarily look down to see whether we are really tread- 
ing upon the earth, wondering, perhaps, that we should be 
content to do so, when it would be so easy to soar above the 
house-tops. 



DEPARTURE FROM DAMASCUS. 



161 



CHAPTER XII. 

BAALBEC AND LEBANON. 

Departure from Damascus — The Fountains of the Pharpar — Pass of the Anti-Lebanon— 
Adventure with the Druses — The Range of Lebanon — The Demon of Hasheesh 
departs — Impressions of Baalbec — The Temple of the Sun — Titanic Masonry — The 
Ruined Mosque — Camp on Lebanon — Rascality of the Guide — The Summit of Lebanon 
— The Sacred Cedars — The Christians of Lebanon — An Afternoon in Eden — Rugged 
Travel — We Reach the Coast — Return to Beyrout. 

" Peor and Baalim 
Forsake their temples dim." 

Milton. 

" The cedars wave on Lebanon, 
But Judah's statelier maids are gone." 

Byron. 

Beyrout, Thursday, May 2T, 1852. 

After a stay of eight days in Damascus, we called our men, 
Dervish and Mustapha, again into requisition, loaded our 
enthusiastic mules, and mounted our despairing horses. There 
were two other parties on the way to Baalbec — an English 
gentleman and lady, and a solitary Englishman, so that our 
united forces made an imposing caravan. There is always a 
custom-house examination, not on entering, but on issuing from 
an Oriental city, but travellers can avoid it by procuring the 
company of a Consular Janissary as far as the gate. Mr. 
Wood, the British Consul, lent us one of his officers for the 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



occasion, whom we found waiting, outside of the wall, to receive 
his private fee for the service. TTe mounted the long, barren 
hill west of the plain, and at the summit, near the tomb of a 
Moslem shekh, turned to take a last long look at the bowery 
plain, and the minarets of the city, glittering through the blue 
morning vapor. 

A few paces further on the rocky road, a different scene 
presented itself to us. There lay, to the westward, a long 
stretch of naked yellow mountains, basking in the hot glare of 
the sun, and through the centre, deep down in the heart of the 
arid landscape, a winding line of living green showed the course 
of the Barrack. TVe followed the river, until the path reached 
an impassable gorge, which occasioned a detour of two or 
three hours. "We then descended to the bed of the dell, where 
the vegetation, owing to the radiated heat from the mountains 
and the fertilizing stimulus of the water below, was even richer 
than on the plain of Damascus. The trees were plethoric with 
an overplus of life. The boughs of the mulberries were 
weighed down with the burden of the leaves ; pomegranates 
were in a violent eruption of blossoms ; and the foliage of the 
fig and poplar was of so deep a hue that it shone black in the 
sun. 

Passing through a gateway^ of rock, so narrow that we were 
often obliged to ride in the bed of the stream, we reached a 
little meadow, beyond which was a small hamlet, almost hidden 
in the leaves. Here the mountains again approached each 
other, and from the side of that on the right hand, the main 
body of the Barrada, or Pharpar, gushed forth in one full 
stream. The fountain is nearly double the volume of that of 
the Jordan at Banias, and much more beautiful. The founda- 



THE FOUNTAINS OF THE PHARPAR. 



163 



tions of an ancient building, probably a temple, overhang it, 
and tall poplars and sycamores cover it with impenetrable 
shade. From the low aperture, where it bursts into the light, 
its waters, white with foam, bound away flashing in the chance 
rays of sunshine, until they are lost to sight in the dense, dark 
foliage. We sat an hour on the ruined walls, listening to the 
roar and rush of the flood, and enjoying the shade of the wal- 
nuts and sycamores. Soon after leaving, our path crossed a 
small stream, which comes down to the Barrada from the upper 
valleys of the Anti-Lebanon, and entered a wild pass, faced 
with cliffs of perpendicular rock. An old bridge, of one arch, 
spanned the chasm, out of which we climbed to a tract of high 
meadow land. In the pass there were some fragments of 
ancient columns, traces of an aqueduct, and inscriptions on the 
rocks, among which Mr. H. found the name of Antoninus. 
The place is not mentioned in any book of travel I have seen, as 
it is not on the usual road from Damascus to Baalbec. 

As we were emerging from the pass, we saw a company of 
twelve armed men seated in the grass, near the roadside. 
They were wild-looking characters, and eyed us somewhat 
sharply as we passed. We greeted them with the usual 
11 salaam aleikoom 1" which they did not return. The same 
evening, as we encamped at the village of Zebdeni, about three 
hours further up the valley, we were startled by a great noise 
and outcry, with the firing of pistols. It happened, as we 
learned on inquiring the cause of all this confusion, that the 
men we saw in the pass were rebel Druses, who were then 
lying in wait for the Shekh of Zebdeni, whom, with his son, 
they had taken captive soon after we passed. The news had 
by some means been conveyed to the village, and a company 



164 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



of about two hundred persons was then marching out to the 
rescue. The noise they made was probably to give the Druses 
intimation of their coming, and thus avoid a fight. I do not 
believe that any of the mountaineers of Lebanon would will- 
ingly take part against the Druses, who, in fact, are not 
fighting so much against the institution of the conscription 
law, as its abuse. The law ordains that the conscript shall 
serve for five years ; but since its establishment, as I have 
been informed, there has not been a single instance of dis- 
charge. It amounts, therefore, to lifelong servitude, and there 
is little wonder that these independent sons of the mountains, 
as well as the tribes inhabiting the Syrian Desert, should rebel 
rather than submit. 

The next day, we crossed a pass in the Anti-Lebanon beyond 
Zebdeni, descended a beautiful valley on the western side, 
under a ridge which was still dotted with patches of snow, 
and after travelling for some hours over a wide, barren height, 
the last of the range, saw below us the plain of Baalbec. The 
grand ridge of Lebanon opposite, crowned with glittering 
fields of snow, shone out clearly through the pure air, and the 
hoary head of Hermon, far in the south, lost something of its 
grandeur by the comparison. Though there is a " divide,' 7 or 
watershed, between Husbeiya, at the foot of Mount Hermon, 
and Baalbec, whose springs join the Orontes, which flows 
northward to Antioch, the great natural separation of the two 
chains continues unbroken to the Gulf of Akaba, in the Red 
Sea. A little beyond Baalbec, the Anti-Lebanon terminates, 
sinking into the Syrian plain, while the Lebanon, though its 
name and general features are lost, about twenty miles further 
to the north is succeeded by other ranges, which, though 



THE DEMON" OF HASHEESH DEPARTS. 165 

broken at intervals, form a regular series, connecting with the 
Taurus, in Asia Minor. 

On leaving Damascus, the Demon of Hasheesh still main- 
tained a partial control over me. I was weak in body and at 
times confused in my perceptions, wandering away from the 
scenes about me to some unknown sphere beyond the moon. 
But the healing balm of my sleep at Zebdeni, and the purity 
of the morning air among the mountains, completed my cure 
As I rode along the valley, with the towering, snow-sprinkled 
ridge of the Anti-Lebanon on my right, a cloudless heaven 
above my head, and meads enamelled with the asphodel and 
scarlet anemone stretching before me, I felt that the last 
shadow had rolled away from my brain. My mind was now as 
clear as that sky — my heart as free and joyful as the elastic 
morning air. The sun never shone so brightly to my eyes ; 
the fair forms of Nature were never penetrated with so perfect 
a spirit of beauty. I was again master of myself, and the 
world glowed as if new-created in the light of my joy and gra- 
titude. I thanked God, who had led me out of a darkness 
more terrible than that of the Yalley of the Shadow of Death, 
and while my feet strayed among the flowery meadows of Leba- 
non, my heart walked on the Delectable Hills of His Mercy. 

By the middle of the afternoon, we reached Baalbec. The 
distant view of the temple, on descending the last slope of the 
Anti-Lebanon, is not calculated to raise one's expectations. 
On the green plain at the foot of the mountain, you see a large 
square platform of masonry, upon which stand six columns, the 
body of the temple, and a quantity of ruined walls. As a 
feature in the landscape, it has a fine effect, but you find your- 
self pronouncing the speedy judgment, that " Baalbec, without 



166 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Lebanon, would be rather a poor show." Having come to 
this conclusion, you ride down the hill with comfortable feel- 
ings of indifference. There are a number of quarries on the 
left hand : you glance at them with an expression which merely 
says : "Ah ! I suppose they got the stones here," and so you 
saunter on, cross a little stream that flows down from the 
modern village, pass a mill, return the stare of the quaint 
Arab miller who comes to the door to see you, and your horse 
is climbing a difficult path among the broken columns and 
friezes, before you think it worth while to lift your eyes to the 
pile above you. Xow re-assert your judgment, if you dare ! 
This is Baalbec : what have you to say ? Nothing ; but you 
amazedly measure the torsos of great columns which lie piled 
across one another in magnificent wreck ; vast pieces which 
have dropped from the entablature, beautiful Corinthian capi- 
tals, bereft of the last graceful curves of their acanthus leaves, 
and blocks whose edges are so worn away that they resemble 
enormous natural boulders left by the Deluge, till at last you 
look up to the six glorious pillars, towering nigh a hundred feet 
above your head, and there is a sensation in your brain which 
would be a shout, if you could give it utterance, of faultless 
symmetry and majesty, such as no conception of yours and no 
other creation of art, can surpass. 

I know of nothing so beautiful in all remains of ancient Art 
as these six columns, except the colonnade of the Memnonium, 
at Thebes, which is of much smaller proportions. From every 
position, and with all lights of the day or night, they are 
equally perfect, and carry your eyes continually away from the 
peristyle of the smaller temple, which is better preserved, and 
from the exquisite architecture of the outer courts and pavi- 



THE TEMPLES OF BAALBEC. 



167 



lions. The two temples of Baalbec stand on an artificial plat- 
form of masonry, a thousand feet in length, and from fifteen to 
thirty feet (according to the depression of the soil) in height. 
The larger one, which is supposed to have been a Pantheon, 
occupies the whole length of this platform. The entrance was 
at the north, by a grand flight of steps, now broken away, 
between two lofty and elegant pavilions which are still nearly 
entire. Then followed a spacious hexagonal court, and three 
grand halls, parts of which, with niches for statues, adorned 
with cornices and pediments of elaborate design, still remain 
entire to the roof. This magnificent series of chambers was 
terminated at the southern extremity of the platform by the 
main temple, which had originally twenty columns on a side, 
similar to the six now standing. 

The Temple of the Sun stands on a smaller and lower plat- 
form, which appears to have been subsequently added to the 
greater one. The cella, or body of the temple, is complete 
except the roof, and of the colonnade surrounding it, nearly 
one-half of its pillars are still standing, upholding the frieze, 
entablature, and cornice, which altogether form probably the 
most ornate specimen of the Corinthian order of architecture 
now extant. Only four pillars of the superb portico remain, 
and the Saracens have nearly ruined these by building a sort 
of watch-tower upon the architrave. The same unscrupulous 
race completely shut up the portal of the temple with a blank 
wall, formed of the fragments they had hurled down, and one 
is obliged to creep through a narrow hole in order to reach 
the interior. Here the original doorway faces you — and I 
know not how to describe the wonderful design of its elaborate 
sculptured mouldings and cornices. The genius of Greek art 



168 



TEE LAND 3 OF 



THE 



SARACEN. 



seems to have exhausted itself in inventing ornaments, which, 
while they should heighten the gorgeous effect of the work, 
must vet harmonize with the grand design of the temple. The 
enormous keystone over the entrance has slipped down, no 
doubt from the shock of an earthquake, and hangs within six 
inches of the bottom of the two blocks which uphold it on 
either side. TThen it falls, the whole entablature of the portal 
will be destroyed. On its lower side is an eagle with outspread 
wings, and on the side-stones a genius with garlands of flowers, 
exquisitely sculptured in bas relief. Hidden among the wreaths 
of vines which adorn the jambs are the laughing heads of 
fauns. This portal was a continual study to me, every visit 
revealing new refinements of ornament, which I had not before 
observed. The interior of the temple, with its rich Corinthian 
pilasters, its niches for statues, surmounted by pediments of 
elegant design, and its elaborate cornice, needs little aid of the 
imagination to restore it to its original perfection. Like that 
of Dendera, in Egypt, the Temple of the Sun leaves upon the 
mind an impression of completeness which makes you forget 
far grander remains. 

But the most wonderful thing at Baalbec is the foundation 
platform upon which the temples stand. Even the colossal 
fabrics of Ancient Egypt dwindle before this superhuman 
masonry. The platform itself, 1,000 feet long, and averaging 
twenty feet in height, suggests a vast mass of stones, but when 
you come to examine the single blocks of which it is composed, 
you are crushed with their incredible bulk. On the western 
side is a row of eleven foundation stones, each of which is 
thirty-two feet in length, twelve in height, and ten in thickness, 
forming a wall three hundred and fifty-two feet long ! But 



TITANIC MASONRY. 



169 



while you are walking on, thinking of the art which cut and 
raised these enormous blocks, you turn the southern corner and 
come upon three stones, the united length of which is one hun- 
dred and eighty-seven feet — two of them being sixty-two and 
the other sixty-three feet in length ! There they are, cut with 
faultless exactness, and so smoothly joined to each other, that 
you cannot force a cambric needle into the crevice. There is one 
joint so perfect that it can only be discerned by the minutest 
search ; it is not even so perceptible as the junction of two 
pieces of paper which have been pasted together. In the quarry, 
there still lies a finished block, ready for transportation, which 
is sixty-seven feet in length. The weight of one of these masses 
has been reckoned at near 9,000 tons, yet they do not form the 
base of the foundation, but are raised upon other courses, fifteen 
feet from the ground. It is considered by some antiquarians 
that they are of a date greatly anterior to that of the temples, 
and were intended as the basement of a different edifice. 

In the village of Baaibec there is a small circular Corinthian 
temple of very elegant design. It is not more than thirty feet 
in diameter, and may have been intended as a tomb. A spa- 
cious mosque, now roofless and deserted, was constructed almost 
entirely out of the remains of the temples. Adjoining the 
court-yard and fountain are five rows of ancient pillars, forty 
(the sacred number) in all, supporting light Saracenic arches. 
Some of them are marble, with Corinthian capitals, and eighteen 
are single shafts of red Egyptian granite. Beside the fountain 
lies a small broken pillar of porphyry, of a dark violet hue, 
and of so fine a grain that the stone has the soft rich lustre 
of velvet. This fragment is the only thing I would carry away 
if I had the power. 

8 



170 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



After a day's sojourn, we left Baalbec at noon, and took the 
road for the Cedars, which lie on the other side of Lebanon, in 
the direction of Tripoli. Our English fellow-travellers chose 
the direct road to Beyrout. We crossed the plain in three 
hours, to the village of Dayr el-Ahmar, and then commenced 
ascending the lowest slopes of the great range, whose topmost 
ridge, a dazzling parapet of snow, rose high above us. For 
several hours, our path led up and down stony ridges, covered 
with thickets of oak and holly, and with wild cherry, pear, and 
olive-trees. Just as the sun threw the shadows of the highest 
Lebanon over us, we came upon a narrow, rocky glen at his 
very base. Streams that still kept the color and the coolness 
of the snow-fields from which they oozed, foamed over the 
stones into the chasm at the bottom. The glen descended 
into a mountain basin, in which lay the lake of Yemouni, cold 
and green under the evening shadows. But just opposite us, 
on a little shelf of soil, there was a rude mill, and a group of 
superb walnut-trees, overhanging the brink of the largest tor- 
rent. We had sent our baggage before us, and the men, with 
an eye to the picturesque which I should not have suspected 
in Arabs, had pitched our tents under those trees, where the 
stream poured its snow-cold beakers beside us, and the tent- 
door looked down on the plain of Baalbec and across to the 
Anti-Lebanon. The miller and two or three peasants, who 
were living in this lonely spot, were Christians. ^ 

The next morning we commenced ascending the Lebanon. 
We had slept just below the snow-line, for the long hollows 
with which the ridge is cloven were filled up to within a short 
distance of the glen, out of which we came. The path was 
very steep, continually ascending, now around the barren 



A QUARREL WITH THE GUIDE. 



IT1 



shoulder of the mountain, now up some ravine, where the holly 
and olive still flourished, and the wild rhubarb-plant spread its 
large, succulent leaves over the soil. We had taken a guide, 
the day before, at the village of Dayr el-Ahmar, but as the 
way was plain before us, and he demanded an exorbitant sum, 
we dismissed him. We had not climbed far, however, before 
he returned, professing to be content with whatever we might 
give him, and took us into another road, the first, he said, 
being impracticable. Up and up we toiled, and the long 
hollows of snow lay below us, and the wind came cold from the 
topmost peaks, which began to show near at hand. But now- 
the road, as we had surmised, turned towards that we had first 
taken, and on reaching the next height we saw the latter at a 
short distance from us. It was not only a better, but a shorter 
road, the rascal of a guide having led us out of it in order to 
give the greater effect to his services. In order to return to 
it, as was necessary, there were several dangerous snow-fields 
to be passed. The angle of their descent was so great that a 
single false step would have hurled our animals, baggage and 
all, many hundred feet below. The snow was melting, and the 
crust frozen over the streams below was so thin in places that 
the animals broke through and sank to their bellies. 

It were needless to state the number and character of the 
anathemas bestowed upon the guide. The impassive Dervish 
raved ; Mustapha stormed ; Frangois broke out in a frightful 
eruption of Greek and Turkish oaths, and the two travellers, 
though not (as I hope and believe) profanely inclined, could 
not avoid using a few terse Saxon expressions. When the 
general indignation had found vent, the men went to work, and 
by taking each animal separately, succeeded, at imminent 



172 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



hazard, in getting them all over the snow. We then dismissed 
the guide, who, far from being abashed by the discovery of his 
trickery, had the impudence to follow us for some time, claim- 
ing his pay. A few more steep pulls, over deep beds of snow 
and patches of barren stone, and at length the summit ridge — 
a sharp, white wall, shining against the intense black-blue of 
the zenith — stood before us. We climbed a toilsome zig-zag 
through the snow, hurried over the stones cumbering the top, 
and all at once the mountains fell away, ridge below ridge, 
gashed with tremendous chasms, whose bottoms were lost in 
blue vapor, till the last heights, crowned with white Maronite 
convents, hung above the sea, whose misty round bounded the 
vision. I have seen many grander mountain views, but few so 
sublimely rugged and broken in their features. The sides of 
the ridges dropped off in all directions into sheer precipices, 
and the few villages we could see were built like eagles' nests 
on the brinks. In a little hollow at our feet was the sacred 
Forest of Cedars, appearing like a patch of stunted junipers. 
It is the highest speck of vegetation on Lebanon, and in winter 
cannot be visited, on account of the snow. The summit on 
which we stood was about nine thousand feet above the sea, 
but there were peaks on each side at least a thousand feet 
higher. 

We descended by a very steep path, over occasional beds of 
snow, and reached the Cedars in an hour and a half. Not 
nntil we were within a hundred yards of the trees, and below 
their level, was I at all impressed with their size and venera- 
ble aspect. But, once entered into the heart of the little 
wood, walking over its miniature hills and valleys, and breath- 
ing the pure, balsamic exhalations of the trees, all the disap- 



THE CEDARS OF LEBANON. 173 

pointment rising to my mind was charmed away in an instant. 
There are about three hundred trees, in all, many of which are 
of the last century's growth, but at least fifty of them would 
be considered grand in any forest. The patriarchs are five in 
number, and are undoubtedly as old as the Christian Era, if 
not the Age of Solomon. The cypresses in the Garden of 
Montezuma, at Chapultepec, are even older and grander trees, 
but they are as entire and shapely as ever, whereas these are 
gnarled and twisted into wonderful forms by the storms of 
twenty centuries, and shivered in some places by lightning. 
The hoary father of them all, nine feet in diameter, stands in 
the centre of the grove, on a little knoll, and spreads his pon- 
derous arms, each a tree in itself, over the heads of the many 
generations that have grown up below, as if giving his last 
benediction before decay. He is scarred less with storm and 
lightning, than with the knives of travellers, and the marble 
crags of Lebanon do not more firmly retain their inscriptions 
than his stony trunk. Dates of the last century are abundant, 
and I recollect a tablet inscribed : " Souard, 1610," around 
which the newer wood has grown to the height of three or four 
inches. The seclusion of the grove, shut in by peaks of barren 
snow, is complete. Only the voice of the nightingale, singing 
here by daylight in the solemn shadows, breaks the silence. 
The Maronite monk, who has charge of a little stone chapel 
standing in the midst, moves about like a shade, and, not before 
you are ready to leave, brings his book for you to register your 
name therein. I was surprised to find how few of the crowd 
that annually overrun Syria reach the Cedars, which, after 
Baalbec, are the finest remains of antiquity in the whole 
country. 



04 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



After a stay of three hours, we rode on to Eden, whither our 
men had already gone with the baggage. Our road led along 
the brink of a tremendous gorge, a thousand feet deep, the 
bottom of which was only accessible here and there by hazard- 
ous foot-paths. On either side, a long shelf of cultivated land 
sloped down to the top, and the mountain streams, after water- 
ing a multitude of orchards and grain-fields, tumbled over the 
cliffs in long, sparkling cascades, to join the roaring flood 
below. This is the Christian region of Lebanon, inhabited 
almost wholly by Maronites, who still retain a portion of their 
former independence, and are the most thrifty, industrious, 
honest, and happy people in Syria. Their villages are not con- 
crete masses of picturesque filth, as are those of the Moslems, 
but are loosely scattered among orchards of mulberry, poplar, 
and vine, washed by fresh rills, and have an air of comparative 
neatness and comfort. Each has its two or three chapels, 
with their little belfries, which toll the hours of prayer. Sad 
and poetic as is the call from the minaret, it never touched me 
as when I heard the sweet tongues of those Christian bells, 
chiming vespers far and near on the sides of Lebanon. 

Eden merits its name. It is a mountain paradise, inhabited 
by people so kind and simple-hearted, that assuredly no venge- 
ful angel will ever drive them out with his flaming sword. It 
hangs above the gorge, which is here nearly two thousand feet 
deep, and overlooks a grand wilderness of mountain-piles, 
crowded on and over each other, from the sea that gleams 
below, to the topmost heights that keep off the morning sun. 
The houses are all built of hewn stone, and grouped in clusters 
under the shade of large walnut-trees. In walking among 
them, we received kind greetings everywhere, and every one 



AN AFTERNOON IN EDEN, 



U5 



who was seated rose and remained standing as we passed. 
The women are beautiful, with sprightly, intelligent faces, quite 
different from the stupid Mahometan females. 

The children were charming creatures, and some of the girls 
of ten or twelve years were lovely as angels. They came 
timidly to our tent (which the men had pitched as before, 
unler two superb trees, beside a fountain), and offered us roses 
and branches of fragrant white jasmine. They expected some 
return, of course, but did not ask it, and the delicate grace 
with which the offering was made was beyond all pay. It was 
Sunday, and the men and boys, having nothing better to do, all 
came to see and talk with us. I shall not soon forget the circle 
of gay and laughing villagers, in which we sat that evening, 
while the dark purple shadows gradually filled up the gorges, 
and broad golden lights poured over the shoulders of the hills. 
The men had much sport in inducing the smaller boys to come 
up and salute us. There was one whom they called "the 
Consul," who eluded them for some time, but was finally caught 
and placed in the ring before us. " Peace be with you, O 
Consul," I said, making him a profound inclination, " may your 
days be propitious ! may your shadow be increased !" but I 
then saw, from the vacant expression on the boy's face, that he 
was one of those harmless, witless creatures, whom yet one 
cannot quite call idiots. " He is an unfortunate ; he knows 
nothing ; he has no protector but God," said the men, crossing 
themselves devoutly. The boy took off his cap, crept up and 
kissed my hand, as I gave him some money, which he no sooner 
grasped, than he sprang up like a startled gazelle, and was out 
of sight in an instant. 

In descending from Eden to the sea-coast, we were obliged 



176 Til E LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 

to cross the great gorge of which I spoke. Further down, its 
sides are less steep, and clothed even to the very bottom with 
magnificent orchards of mulberry, fig, olive, orange, and pome- 
granate trees. We were three hours in reaching the opposite 
side, although the breadth across the top is not more than a 
mile. The path was exceedingly perilous ; we walked down, 
leading our horses, and once were obliged to unload our 
mules to get them past a tree, which would have forced 
them off the brink of a chasm several hundred feet deep. 
The view from the bottom was wonderful. We were shut 
in by steeps of foliage and blossoms from two to three 
thousand feet high, broken by crags of white marble, and 
towering almost precipitously to the very clouds. I doubt if 
Melville saw anything grander in the tropical gorges of 
Typee. After reaching the other side, we had still a journey 
of eight hours to the sea, through a wild and broken, yet 
highly cultivated country. 

Beyrout was now thirteen hours distant, but by making a 
forced march we reached it in a day, travelling along the 
shore, past the towns of Jebeil, the ancient Byblus, and 
Joonieh. The hills about Jebeil produce the celebrated 
tobacco known in Egypt as the Jebelee, or " mountain" tobacco, 
which is even superior to the Latakiyeh. 

Xear Beyrout, the mulberry and olive are in the ascendant. 
The latter tree bears the finest fruit in all the Levant, 
and might drive all other oils out of the market, if 
any one had enterprise enough to erect proper manufac- 
tories. Instead of this the oil of the country is badly 
prepared, rancid from the skins in which it is kept, and the 
wealthy natives import from France and Italy in preference to 



SYRIAN CULTIVATION, 



using it. In the bottoms near the sea, I saw several fields of 
the taro-plant, the cultivation of which I had supposed was 
exclusively confined to the Islands of the Pacific. There 
would be no end to the wealth of Syria were the country in 
proper hands. 



8* 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

PIPES AND COFFEE 

— — " the kind nymph to Bacchus born 
By Morpheus' daughter, she that seems 
Gifted upon her natal morn 
By him with fire, by her with dreams — 
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse 

Than all the grape's bewildering juice." Lowell. 

In painting the picture of an Oriental, the pipe and the coffee- 
cup are indispensable accessories. There is scarce a Turk, or 
Arab, or Persian — unless he be a Dervish of peculiar sanctity — 
but breathes his daily incense to the milder Bacchus of the 
moderns. The custom has become so thoroughly naturalized 
in the East, that we are apt to forget its comparatively recent 
introduction, and to wonder that no mention is made of the 
pipe in the Arabian Xights. The practice of smoking .harmo- 
nizes so thoroughly with the character of Oriental life, that it 
is difficult for us to imagine a time when it never existed. It 
has become a part of that supreme patience, that wonderful 
repose, which forms so strong a contrast to the over-active life 
of the X ew World — the enjoyment of which no one can taste, 
to whom the pipe is not familiar. Howl, ye Reformers ! but I 
solemnly declare unto you, that he who travels through the 
East without smoking, does not know the East. 

It is strange that our Continent, where the meaning of Rest 



THE PIPE. 



179 



fs unknown, should have given to the world this great agent of 
Rest. There is nothing more remarkable in history than the 
colonization of Tobacco over the whole Earth. Not three 
centuries have elapsed since knightly Raleigh puffed its fumes 
into the astonished eyes of Spenser and Shakspeare ; and now, 
find me - any corner of the world, from Nova Zembla to the 
Mountains of the Moon, where the use of the plant is unknown ! 
Tarshish (if India was Tarshish) is less distinguished by its 
" apes, ivory, and peacocks," than by its hookahs ; the valleys 
of Luzon, beyond Ternate and Tidore, send us more cheroots 
than spices ; the Gardens of Shiraz produce more velvety 
toombek than roses, and the only fountains which bubble in 
Samarcand are those of the narghilehs : Lebanon is no longer 
" excellent with the Cedars," as in the days of Solomon, but 
most excellent with its fields of Jebelee and Latakiyeh. On 
the unvisited plains of Central Africa, the table-lands of Tar- 
tary, and in the valleys of Japan, the wonderful plant has found 
a home. The naked negro, " panting at the Line," inhales it 
under the palms, and the Lapp and Samoyed on the shores of 
the Frozen Sea. 

It is idle for those who object to the use of Tobacco to 
attribute these phenomena wholly to a perverted taste. The 
fact that the custom was at once adopted by all the races of 
men, whatever their geographical position and degree of civili- 
zation, proves that there must be a reason for it in the physical 
constitution of man. Its effect, when habitually used, is 
slightly narcotic and sedative, not stimulating — or if so, at 
times, it stimulates only the imagination and the social facul- 
ties. It lulls to sleep the combative and destructive propensi- 
ties, and hence — so far as a material agent may operate — it 



ISO 



THE LANDS OF TH£ SARACEN. 



exercises a humanizing and refining influence. A profound 
student of Man, whose name is well known to the world, once 
informed me that he saw in the eagerness with which savage 
tribes adopt the use of Tobacco, a spontaneous movement of 
Nature towards Civilization. 

I will not pursue these speculations further, for the narghileh 
(bubbling softly at my elbow, as I write) is the promoter of 
repose and the begetter of agreeable reverie. As I inhale its 
cool, fragrant breath, and partly yield myself to the sensation 
of healthy rest which wraps my limbs as with a velvet mantle, 
I marvel how the poets and artists and scholars of olden times 
nursed those dreams which the world calls indolence, but which 
are the seeds that germinate into great achievements. How did 
Plato philosophize without the pipe ? How did gray Homer, 
sitting on the temple-steps in the Grecian twilights, drive 
from his heart the bitterness of beggary and blindness ? How 
did Phidias charm the Cerberus of his animal nature to sleep, 
while his soul entered the Elysian Fields and beheld the forms 
of heroes ? For, in the higher world of Art, Body and Soul 
are sworn enemies, and the pipe holds an opiate more potent 
than all the drowsy syrups of the East, to drug the former 
into submission. Milton knew this, as he smoked his evening 
pipe at Chalfont, wandering, the while, among the palms of 
Paradise. 

But it is also our loss, that Tobacco was unknown to the 
Greeks. They would else have given us, in verse and in mar- 
ble, another divinity in their glorious Pantheon — a god less 
drowsy than Morpheus and Somnus, less riotous than Bacchus, 
less radiant than Apollo, but with something of the spirit of 
each : a figure, beautiful with youth, every muscle in perfect 



THE PIPE. 



181 



repose, and the vague expression of dreams in his half-closed 
eyes. His temple would have been built in a grove of South- 
ern pines, on the borders of a land-locked gulf, sheltered from 
the surges that buffet without, where service would have been 
rendered him in the late hours of the afternoon, or in the even- 
ing twilight. From his oracular tripod words of wisdom would 
have been spoken, and the fanes of Delphi and Dodona would 
have been deserted for his. 

Oh, non-smoking friends, who read these lines with pain and 
incredulity — and you, ladies, who turn pale at the thought of a 
pipe — let me tell you that you are familiar only with the vul- 
gar form of tobacco, and have never passed between the wind 
and its gentility. The word conveys no idea to you but that 
of " long nines," and pig-tail, and cavendish. Forget these for 
a moment, and look upon this dark-brown cake of dried leaves 
and blossoms, which exhales an odor of pressed flowers. These 
are the tender tops of the Jebelee, plucked as the buds begin to 
expand, and carefully dried in the shade. In order to be used, 
it is moistened with rose-scented water, and cut to the neces- 
sary degree of fineness. The test of true Jebelee is, that it 
burns with a slow, hidden fire, like tinder, and causes no irrita- 
tion to the eye when held under it. The smoke, drawn through 
a long cherry-stick pipe and amber mouth-piece, is pure, cool, 
and sweet, with an aromatic flavor, which is very pleasant in 
the mouth. It excites no salivation, and leaves behind it no 
unpleasant, stale odor. 

The narghileh (still bubbling beside me) is an institution 
known only in the East. It requires a peculiar kind of 
tobacco, which grows to perfection in the southern provinces 
of Persia. The smoke, after passing through water (rose- 



L82 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



flavored, if you choose), is inhaled through a long, flexible 
tube directly into the lungs. It occasions not the slightest 
irritation or oppression, but in a few minutes produces a 
delicious sense of rest, which is felt even in the finger-ends. 
The pure physical sensation of rest is one of strength also, and 
of perfect contentment. Many an impatient thought, many an 
angry word, hare I avoided by a resort to the pipe. Among 
our aborigines the pipe was the emblem of Peace, and I 
strongly recommend the Peace Society to print their tracts 
upon papers of smoking tobacco (Turkish, if possible), and 
distribute pipes with them. 

I know of nothing more refreshing, after the fatigue of a long 
day's journey, than a well-prepared narghileh. That slight 
feverish and excitable feeling which is the result of fatigue 
yields at once to its potency. The blood loses its heat and the 
pulse its rapidity ; the muscles relax, the nerves are soothed 
into quiet, and the frame passes into a condition similar to 
sleep, except that the mind is awake and active. By the time 
one has finished his pipe, he is refreshed for the remainder of 
the day, and his nightly sleep is sound and healthy. Such are 
some of the physical effects of the pipe, in Eastern lands. 
Morally and psychologically, it works still greater transforma- 
tions ; but to describe them now, with the mouth-piece at my 
lips, would require an active self-consciousness which the habit 
does not allow. 

A servant enters with a steamy cup of coffee, seated in a 
silver zerf, or cup-holder. His thumb and fore-finger are 
clasped firmly upon the bottom of the zerf, which I inclose 
near the top with my own thumb and finger, so that the trans- 
fer is accomplished without his hand having touched mine 



COFFEE. 



183 



After draining the thick brown liquid, which must be done 
with due deliberation and a pause of satisfaction between each 
sip, I return the zerf, holding it in the middle, while the atten- 
dant places a palm of each hand upon the top and bottom and 
carries it off without contact. The beverage is made of the 
berries of Mocha, slightly roasted, pulverized in a mortar, and 
heated to a foam, without the addition of cream or sugar. 
Sometimes, however, it is flavored with the extract of roses or 
violets. When skilfully made, each cup is prepared separately, 
and the quantity of water and coffee carefully measured. 

Coffee is a true child of the East, and its original home was 
among the hills of Yemen, the Arabia Felix of the ancients. 
Fortunately for Mussulmen, its use was unknown in the days 
of Mahomet, or it would probably have fallen under the same 
prohibition as wine. The word Kahweh (whence cafe) is an 
old Arabic term for wine. The discovery of the properties of 
coffee is attributed to a dervish, who, for some misdemeanor, 
was carried into the mountains of Yemen by his brethren and 
there left to perish by starvation. In order to appease the 
pangs of hunger he gathered the ripe berries from the wild 
coffee-trees, roasted and ate them. The nourishment they con- 
tained, with water from the springs, sustained his life, and after 
two or three months he returned in good condition to his 
brethren, who considered his preservation as a miracle, and 
ever afterwards looked upon him as a pattern of holiness. He 
taught the use of the miraculous fruit, and the demand for it 
soon became so great as to render the cultivation of the tree 
necessary. It was a long time, however, before coffee was 
introduced into Europe. As late as the beginning of the 
seventeenth century, Sandys, the quaint old traveller, describes 



184 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the appearance and taste of the beverage, which he calls 
" Coffa," and sagely asks : " Why not that black broth which 
the Lacedemonians used V 

On account of the excellence of the material, and the skilful 
manner of its preparation, the Coffee of the East is the finest 
in the world. I have found it so grateful and refreshing a 
drink, that I can readily pardon the pleasant exaggeration of 
the Arabic poet, Abd-el Kader Anazari Djezeri Hanbali, the 
son of Mahomet, who thus celebrates its virtues. After such 
an exalted eulogy, my own praises would sound dull and tame ; 
and I therefore resume my pipe, commending Abd-el Kader to 
the reader. 

" Coffee ! thou dispellest the cares of the great ; thou 
bringest back those who wander from the paths of knowledge. 
Coffee is the beverage of the people of God, and the cordial 
of his servants who thirst for wisdom. When coffee is infused 
into the bowl, it exhales the odor of musk, and is of the color 
of ink. The truth is not known except to the wise, who drink 
it from the foaming coffee-cup. God has deprived fools of 
coffee, who, with invincible obstinacy, condemn it as injurious. 

" Coffee is our gold ; and in the place of its libations we are 
in the enjoyment of the best and noblest society. Coffee is 
even as innocent a drink as the purest milk, from which it is 
distinguished only by its color. Tarry with thy coffee in the 
place of its preparation, and the good God will hover over 
thee and participate in his feast. There the graces of the 
saloon, the luxury of life, the society of friends, all furnish a 
picture of the abode of happiness. 

" Every care vanishes when the cup-bearer presents the deli- 
cious chalice. It will circulate fleetly through thy veins, and 



THE PRAISE OF COFFJSE. 



185 



will not rankle there : if thou doubtest this, contemplate the 
youth and beauty of those who drink it. Grief cannot exist 
where it grows ; sorrow humbles itself in obedience before its 
powers. 

" Coffee is the drink of God's people ; in it is health. Let 
this be the answer to those who doubt its qualities. In it we 
will drown our adversities, and in its fire consume our sorrows. 
Whoever has once seen the blissful chalice, will scorn the wine- 
cup. Glorious drink ! thy color is the seal of purity, and 
reason proclaims it genuine. Drink with confidence, and regard 
not the prattle of fools, who condemn without foundation," 



183 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 



CHAPTER XIY. 

JOURNEY TO ANTIOCH AND ALEPPO. 

Change of Plans — Routes to Baghdad — Asia Minor — We sail from Beyrout — Yachting 
on the Syrian Coast— Tartus and Latakiyeh— The Coasts of Syria— The Bay of Sue- 
diah— The Mouth of the Orontes— Landing— The Garden of Syria— Ride to Antioch 
—-The Modern City— The Plains of the Orontes— Remains of the Greek Empire— The 
Ancient Road — The Plain of Keftin — Approach to Aleppo. 

" The chain is loosed, the sails are spread, 
The living breath is fresh behind, 
As, with dews and sunrise fed, 

Comes the laughing morning wind." 

Shelley. 
Aleppo, Friday, June 4, 1S52. 

A traveller in the East, who has not unbounded time and an 
extensive fortune at his disposal, is never certain where and 
how far he shall go, until his journey is finished. With but a 
limited portion of both these necessaries, I have so far carried 
out my original plan with scarcely a variation ; but at present I 
am obliged to make a material change of route. My farthest 
East is here at Aleppo. At Damascus, I was told by every- 
body that it was too late in the season to visit either Baghdad 
or Mosul, and that, on account of the terrible summer heats 
and the fevers which prevail along the Tigris, it would be 
imprudent to undertake it. Notwithstanding this, I should 
probably have gone (being now so thoroughly acclimated that 
I have nothing to fear from the heat), had I not met with a 



ROUTES TO BAGHDAD, 



187 



friend of Col. Rawlinson, the companion of Layard, and the 
sharer in his discoveries at Nineveh. This gentleman, who 
met Col. R. not long since in Constantinople, on his way to 
Baghdad (where he resides as British Consul), informed me 
that since the departure of Mr. Layard from Mosul, the most 
interesting excavations have been filled up, in order to preserve 
the sculptures. Unless one was able to make a new exhuma- 
tion, he would be by no means repaid for so long and arduous 
a journey. The ruins of Nineveh are all below the surface 
of the earth, and the little of them that is now left exposed, 
is less complete and interesting than the specimens in the 
British Museum. 

There is a route from Damascus to Baghdad, across the 
Desert, by way of Palmyra, but it is rarely travelled, even by 
the natives, except when the caravans are sufficiently strong to 
withstand the attacks of the Bedouins. The traveller is 
obliged to go in Arab costume, to leave his baggage behind, 
except a meagre scrip for the journey, and to pay from $300 to 
$500 for the camels and escort. The more usual route is to 
come northward to this city, then cross to Mosul and descend 
the Tigris — a journey of four or five weeks. After weighing 
all the advantages and disadvantages of undertaking a tour of 
such length as it would be necessary to make before reaching 
Constantinople, I decided at Beyrout to give up the fascinating 
fields of travel in Media, Assyria and Armenia, and take a 
rather shorter and perhaps equally interesting route from 
Aleppo to Constantinople, by way of Tarsus, Konia (Iconium), 
and the ancient countries of Phrygia, Bithynia, and Mysia. 
The interior of Asia Minor is even less known to us than the 
Persian side of Asiatic Turkey, which has of late received 



188 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



more attention from travellers ; and, as I shall traverse it in 
its whole length, from Syria to the Bosphorns, I may find it 
replete with " green fields and pastures new/ 7 which shall repay 
me for relinquishing the first and more ambitious undertaking. 
At least, I have so much reason to be grateful for the uninter- 
rupted good health and good luck I have enjoyed during seven 
months in Africa and the Orient, that I cannot be otherwise 
than content with the prospect before me. 

I left Bey rout on the night of the 28 th of May, with Mr. 
Harrison, who has decided to keep me company as far as Con- 
stantinople. Frangois, our classic dragoman, whose great 
delight is to recite Homer by the sea-side, is retained for the 
whole tour, as we have found no reason to doubt his honesty 
or ability. Our first thought was to proceed to Aleppo by 
land, by way of Horns and Hamah, whence there might be a 
chance of reaching Palmyra ; but as we found an opportunity 
of engaging an American yacht for the voyage up the coast, 
it was thought preferable to take her, and save time. She was 
a neat little craft, called the " American Eagle, "-brought out by 
Mr. Smith, our Consul at Beyrout. So, one fine moonlit night, 
we slowly crept out of the harbor, and after returning a volley 
of salutes from our friends at Demetri's Hotel, ran into the 
heart of a thunder-storm, which poured down more rain than 
all I had seen for eight months before. But our rai's, Assad 
(the Lion), was worthy of his name, and had two good Chris- 
tian sailors at his command, so we lay in the cramped little 
cabin, and heard the floods washing our deck, without 
fear. 

In the morning, we were off Tripoli, which is even more 
deeply buried than Beyrout in its orange and mulberry groves, 



THE COAST OF SYRIA, 



189 



and slowly wafted along the bold mountain-coast, in the after- 
noon reached Tartus, the Ancient Tortosa. A mile from shore 
is the rocky island of Aradus, entirely covered by a town. 
There were a dozen vessels lying in the harbor. The remains 
of a large fortress and ancient mole prove it to have been a 
place of considerable importance. Tartus is a small old place 
on the sea-shore — not so large nor so important in appearance 
as its island-port. The country behind is green and hilly, 
though but partially cultivated, and rises into Djebel Ansairi- 
yeh, which divides the valley of the Orontes from the sea. It 
is a lovely coast, especially under the flying lights and shadows 
of such a breezy day as we had. The wind fell at sunset ; but 
by the next morning, we had passed the tobacco-fields of Lata- 
kiyeh, and were in sight of the southern cape of the Bay of 
Suediah. The mountains forming this cape culminate in a grand 
conical peak, about 5,000 feet in height, called Djebel Okrab. 
At ten o'clock, wafted along by a slow wind, we turned the 
point and entered the Bay of Suediah, formed by the embou- 
chure of the River Orontes. The mountain headland of Akma 
Dagh, forming the portal of the Gulf of Scanderoon, loomed 
grandly in front of us across the bay ; and far beyond it, we 
could just distinguish the coast of Karamania, the snow-capped 
range of Taurus. 

The Coasts of Syria might be divided, like those of Guinea, 
according to the nature of their productions. The northern 
division is bold and bare, yet flocks of sheep graze on the 
slopes of its mountains ; and the inland plains behind them are 
covered with orchards of pistachio-trees. Silk is cultivated in 
the neighborhood of Suediah, but forms only a small portion 
of the exports, This region may be called the Wool and Pis- 



190 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

tachio Coast. Southward, from Latakiyeh to Tartus and the 
northern limit of Lebanon, extends the Tobacco Coast, whose 
undulating hills are now clothed with the pale-green leaves of 
the renowned plant. From Tripoli to Tyre, embracing all the 
western slope of Lebanon, and the deep, rich valleys lying 
between his knees, the mulberry predominates, and the land is 
covered with the houses of thatch and matting which shelter 
the busy worms. This is the Silk Coast. The palmy plains of 
Jaffa, and beyond, until Syria meets the African sands between 
Gaza and El-Arish, constitute the Orange Coast. The vine, 
the olive, and the fig flourish everywhere. 

We were all day getting up the bay, and it seemed as if we 
should never pass Djebel Okrab, whose pointed top rose high 
above a long belt of fleecy clouds that girdled his waist. At 
sunset we made the mouth of the Orontes. Our lion of a 
Captain tried to run into the river, but the channel was very 
narrow, and when within thre-e hundred yards of the shore the 
yacht struck. "We had all sail set, and had the wind been a 
little stronger, we should have capsized in an instant. The lion 
went manfully to work, and by dint of hard poling, shoved us 
off, and came to anchor in deep water. Xot until the danger 
was past did he open his batteries on the unlucky helmsman, and 
then the explosion of Arabic oaths was equal to a broadside 
of twenty-four pounders. We lay all night rocking on the 
swells, and the next morning, by firing a number of signal guns, 
brought out a boat, which took us off. We entered the mouth 
of the Orontes, and sailed nearly a mile between rich wheat 
meadows before reaching the landing-place of Suediah — two or 
three uninhabited stone huts, with three or four small Turkish 
craft, and a health officer. The town lies a mile or two inland, 



THE GARDEN OF SYRIA, 



191 



scattered along the hill-side amid gardens so luxuriant as 
almost to conceal it from view. 

This part of the coast is ignorant of travellers, and we were 
obliged to wait half a day before we could find a sufficient 
number of horses to take us to Antioch, twenty miles distant. 
When they came, they were solid farmers 7 horses, with the 
rudest gear imaginable. I was obliged to mount astride of a 
broad pack-saddle, with my legs suspended in coils of rope. 
Leaving the meadows, we entered a lane of the wildest, rich- 
est and loveliest bloom and foliage. Our way was overhung 
with hedges of pomegranate, myrtle, oleander, and white rose, 
in blossom, and occasionally with quince, fig, and carob trees, 
laced together with grape vines in fragrant bloom. Sometimes 
this wilderness of color and odor met above our heads and 
made a twilight ; then it opened into long, dazzling, sun- 
bright vistas, where the hues of the oleander, pomegranate and 
white rose made the eye wink with their gorgeous profusion. 
The mountains we crossed were covered with thickets of myrtle, 
mastic, daphne, and arbutus, and all the valleys and sloping 
meads waved with fig, mulberry, and olive trees. Looking 
towards the sea, the valley broadened out between mountain 
ranges whose summits were lost in the clouds. Though the 
soil was not so rich as in Palestine, the general aspect of the 
country was much wilder and more luxuriant. 

So, by this glorious lane, over the myrtled hills and down 
into valleys, whose bed was one hue of rose from the blossom- 
ing oleanders, we travelled for five hours, crossing the low 
ranges of hills through which the Orontes forces his way to the 
sea. At last we reached a height overlooking the valley of 
the river, and saw in the east, at the foot of the mountain 



192 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

chain, the long lines of barracks built by Ibrahim Pasha for 
the defence of Antioch. Behind them the ancient wall of the 
city clomb the mountains, whose crest it followed to the last 
peak of the chain. From the next hill we saw the city — a 
large extent of one-story houses with tiled roofs, surrounded 
with gardens, and half buried in the foliage of sycamores. It 
extends from the River Orontes, which washes its walls, up the 
slope of the mountain to the crags of gray rock which over- 
hang it. We crossed the river by a massive old bridge, and 
entered the town. Riding along the rills of filth which tra- 
verse the streets, forming their- central avenues, we passed 
through several lines of bazaars to a large and dreary-looking 
khan, the keeper of which gave us the best vacant chamber — 
a narrow place, full of fleas. 

Antioch presents not even a shadow of its former splendor. 
Except the great walls, ten to fifteen miles in circuit, which 
the Turks have done their best to destroy, every vestige of the 
old city has disappeared. The houses are all of one story, on 
account of earthquakes, from which Antioch has suffered more 
than any other city in the world. At one time, daring the 
Middle Ages, it lost 120,000 inhabitants in one day. Its situ- 
ation is magnificent, and the modern town, notwithstanding its 
filth, wears a bright and busy aspect. Situated at the base of 
a lofty mountain, it overlooks, towards the east, a plain thirty 
or forty miles in length, producing the most abundant harvests. 
A great number of the inhabitants are workers in wood and 
leather, and very thrifty and cheerful people they appear to be. 

We> remained until the next day at noon, by which time a 
gray-bearded scamp, the chief of the mukkairees, or muleteers, 
succeeded in getting us five miserable beasts for the journey 



THE VALLEY OF THE ORONTES. 



193 



to Aleppo. On leaving the city, we travelled along a former 
street of Antioch, part of the ancient pavement still remain- 
ing, and after two miles came to the old wall of circuit, which 
we passed by a massive gateway, of Roman time. It is now 
called Bab Boulos, or St. Paul's Gate. Christianity, it will 
be remembered, was planted in Antioch by Paul and Barna- 
bas, and the Apostle Peter was the first bishop of the city. 
We now entered the great plain of the Orontes — a level sea, 
rioting in the wealth of its ripening harvests. The river, lined 
with luxuriant thickets, meandered through the centre of this 
glorious picture. We crossed it during the afternoon, and 
keeping on our eastward course, encamped at night in a mea- 
dow near the tents of some wandering Turcomans, who fur- 
nished us with butter and milk from their herds. 

Leaving the plain the next morning, we travelled due east 
all day, over long stony ranges of mountains, inclosing only 
one valley, which bore evidence of great fertility. It was cir- 
cular, about ten mihjs in its greater diameter, and bounded on 
the north by the broad peak of Djebel Saman, or Mount St. 
Simon. In the morning we passed a ruined castle, standing in 
a dry, treeless dell, among the hot hills. The muleteers called 
it the Maiden's Palace, and said that it was built long ago by 
a powerful Sultan, as a prison for his daughter. -For several 
hours thereafter, our road was lined with remains of buildings, 
apparently dating from the time of the Greek Empire. There 
were tombs, temples of massive masonry, though in a bad style 
of architecture, and long rows of arched chambers, which 
resembled store-houses. They were all more or less shattered 
by earthquakes, but in one place I noticed twenty such arches, 
each of at least twenty feet span. All the hills, on either 

9 



194 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



hand, as far as we could see, were covered with the remains of 
buildings. In the plain of St. Simon, I saw two superb pil- 
lars, apparently part of a portico, or gateway, and the village 
of Dana is formed almost entirely of churches and convents, 
of the Lower Empire. There were but few inscriptions, and 
these I could not read ; but the whole of this region would, 
no doubt, richly repay an antiquarian research. I am told here 
that the entire chain of hills, which extends southward for 
more than a hundred miles, abounds with similar remains, and 
that, in many places, whole cities stand almost entire, as if 
recently deserted by their inhabitants. 

During the afternoon, we came upon a portion of the ancient 
road from Antioch to Aleppo, which is still as perfect as when 
first constructed. It crossed a very stony ridge, and is much 
the finest specimen of road-making I ever saw, quite putting 
to shame the Appian and Flaminian Ways at Rome. It is 
twenty feet wide, and laid with blocks of white marble, from 
two to four feet square. It was apparently raised upon a more 
ancient road, which diverges here and there from the line, 
showing the deeply-cut traces of the Roman chariot-wheels. In 
the barren depths of the mountains we found every hour 
cisterns cut in the rock and filled with water left by the winter 
rains. Many of them, however, are fast drying up, and a 
month later this will be a desert road. 

Towards night we descended from the hills upon the Plain of 
Keftin, which stretches south-westward from Aleppo, till the 
mountain-streams which fertilize it are dried up, when it is 
merged into the Syrian Desert. Its northern edge, along 
which we travelled, is covered with fields of wheat, cotton, and 
castor-beans. We stopped all night at a village called Taireb, 



APPROACH TO ALEPPO. 



195 



planted at the foot of a tumulus, older than tradition. The 
people were in great dread of the Aneyzeh Arabs, who come 
in from the Desert to destroy their harvests and carry off their 
cattle. They wanted us to take a guard, but after our expe- 
rience on the Anti-Lebanon, we felt safer without one. 

Yesterday we travelled for seven hours over a wide, rolling 
country, now waste and barren, but formerly covered with wealth 
and supporting an abundant population, evidences of which are 
found in the buildings everywhere scattered over the hills. On 
and on we toiled in the heat, over this inhospitable wilderness, 
and though we knew Aleppo must be very near, yet we could 
see neither sign of cultivation nor inhabitants. Finally, about 
three o'clock, the top of a line of shattered wall and the points 
of some minarets issued out of the earth, several miles in front 
of us, and on climbing a glaring chalky ridge, the renowned 
city burst at once upon our view. It filled a wide hollow or 
basin among the white hills, against which its whiter houses 
and domes glimmered for miles, in the dead, dreary heat of the 
afternoon, scarcely relieved by the narrow belt of gardens on 
the nearer side, or the orchards of pistachio trees beyond. In 
the centre of the city rose a steep,- abrupt mound, crowned 
with the remains of the ancient citadel, and shining minarets 
shot up, singly or in clusters, around its base. The prevailing 
hue of the landscape was a whitish-gray, and the long, stately 
city and long, monotonous hills, gleamed with equal brilliancy 
under a sky of cloudless and intense blue. This singular 
monotony of coloring gave a wonderful effect to the view, 
which is one of the most remarkable in all the Orient. 



196 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



CHAPTER XV. 

LIFE IX ALEPPO. 

Our Entry into Aleppo— We are conducted to a House— Our Unexpected Welcome— The 
Mystery Explained— Aleppo — Its Name — Its Situation— The Trade of Aleppo— The 
Christians— The Revolt of 1S50— Present Appearance of the City— Visit -to Osman 
Pasha — The Citadel — View from the Battlements — Society in Aleppo — Etiquette and 
Costume— Jewish Marriage Festivities — A Christian Marriage Procession — Ride 
around the Town— Nightingales— The Aleppo Button— A Hospital for Cats— Ferhat 
Pasha. 

Aleppo, Tuesday, June 8, 1852. 

Our entry into Aleppo was a fitting preliminary to our expe- 
riences during the five clays we have spent here. After passing 
a blackamoor, who acted as an advanced guard of the Custom 
House, at a ragged tent outside of the- city, and bribing him 
with two piastres, we crossed the narrow line of gardens on 
the western side, and entered the streets. There were many 
coffee-houses, filled with smokers, nearly all of whom accosted 
us in Turkish, though Arabic is the prevailing language here. 
Ignorance made us discourteous, and we slighted every attempt 
to open a conversation. Out of the narrow streets of the 
suburbs, we advanced to the bazaars, in order to find a khan 
where we could obtain lodgings. All the best khans, however, 
were filled, and we were about to take a very inferior room, 
when a respectable individual came up to Francois and said : 
1 The house is ready for the travellers, and I will show you the 



AN UNEXPECTED WELCOME. 



19? 



way." We were a little surprised at this address, but followed 
him to a neat, quiet and pleasant street near the bazaars, 
where we were ushered into a spacious court-yard, with a row 
of apartments opening upon it, and told to make ourselves at 
home. 

The place had evidently been recently inhabited, for the 
rooms were well furnished, with not only divans, but beds in 
the Frank style. A lean kitten was scratching at one of the 
windows, to the great danger of overturning a pair of narghi- 
lehs, a tame sea-gull was walking about the court, and two 
sheep bleated in a stable at the further end. In the kitchen 
we not only found a variety of utensils, but eggs, salt, pepper, 
and other condiments. Our guide had left, and the only infor- 
mation we could get, from a dyeing establishment next door, 
was that the occupants had gone into the country. " Take 
the good the gods provide thee," is my rule in such cases, and 
as we were very hungry, we set Francois to work at preparing 
dinner. We arranged a divan in the open air, had a table 
brought out, and by the aid of the bakers in the bazaar, and 
the stores which the kitchen supplied, soon rejoiced over a very 
palatable meal. The romantic character of our reception made 
the dinner a merry one. It was a chapter out of the Arabian 
Nights, and be he genie or afrite, caliph or merchant of Bas- 
sora, into whose hands we had fallen, we resolved to let the 
adventure take its course. We were just finishing a nonde- 
script pastry which Francois found at a baker's, and which, for 
want of a better name, he called meringues a la Khorassan, 
when there was a loud knock at the street door. We felt at 
first some little trepidation, but determined to maintain our 
places, and gravely invite the real master to join us. 



198 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



It was a female servsnt, however, who, to our great amaze- 
ment, made a profound salutation, and seemed delighted to see 
us. " My master did not expect your Excellencies to-day ; he 
has gone into the gardens, but will soon return. Will your 
Excellencies take coffee after your dinner ?" and coffee was 
forthwith served. The old woman was unremitting in her 
attentions ; and her son, a boy of eight years, and the most 
venerable child I ever saw, entertained us with the description 
of a horse which his master had just bought — a horse which 
had cost two thousand piastres, and was ninety years old. 
Well, this Aleppo is an extraordinary place, was my first 
impression, and the inhabitants are remarkable people ; but I 
waited the master's arrival, as the only means of solving the 
mystery. About dusk, there was another rap at the door. A 
lady dressed in white, with an Indian handkerchief bound over 
her black hair, arrived. "Pray excuse us," said she; "we 
thought you would not reach here before to-morrow ; but my 
brother will come directly." In fact, the brother did come 
soon afterwards, and greeted us with a still warmer welcome. 
"Before leaving the gardens," he said, "I heard of your arri- 
val, and have come in a full gallop the whole way." In order 
to put an end to this comedy of errors, I declared at once 
that he was mistaken ; nobody in Aleppo could possibly know 
of our coming, and we were, perhaps, transgressing on his 
hospitality. But no : he would not be convinced. He was a 
dragoman to the English Consulate ; his master had told him 
we would be here the next day, and he must be prepared to 
receive us. Besides, the janissary of the Consulate had showed 
us the way to his house. We, therefore, let the matter rest 
until next morning, when we called on Mr. Yery, the Consul, 



ALEPPO ITS NAME. 



199 



who informed us that the janissary had mistaken us for two 
gentlemen we had met in Damascus, the travelling companions 
of Lord Dalkeith. As they had not arrived, he begged us to 
remain in the quarters which had been prepared for them. 
We have every reason to be glad of this mistake, as it has 
made us acquainted with one of the most courteous and hospi- 
table gentlemen in the East. 

Aleppo lies so far out of the usual routes of travel, that it 
is rarely visited by Europeans. One is not, therefore, as in the 
case of Damascus, prepared beforehand by volumes of descrip- 
tion, which preclude all possibility of mistake or surprise. For 
my part, I only knew that Aleppo had once been the greatest 
commercial city of the Orient, though its power had long since 
passed into other hands. But there were certain stately asso- 
ciations lingering around the name, which drew me towards it, 
and obliged me to include it, at all hazards, in my Asiatic tour. 
The scanty description of Captains Irby and Mangles, the only 
one I had read, gave me no distinct idea of its position or 
appearance ; and when, the other day, I first saw it looming 
grand and gray among the gray hills, more like a vast natural 
crystallization than the product of human art, I revelled in the 
novelty of that startling first impression. 

The tradition of the city's name is curious, and worth 
relating. It is called, in Arabic, Haleb el-Shahba — Aleppo, 
the Gray — which most persons suppose to refer to the prevail- 
ing color of the soil. The legend, however, goes much farther. 
Haleb, which the Venetians and Genoese softened into Aleppo, 
means literally : " has niilked." According to Arab tradition, 
the patriarch Abraham once lived here : his tent being pitched 
near the mound now occupied by the citadel. He had a cer- 



200 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



tain gray cow (el-shahba) which was milked every morning for 
the benefit of the poor. When, therefore, it was proclaimed : 
"Ibrahim haleb el-shahba-" (Abraham has milked the gray 
cow), all the poor of the tribe came np to receive their share. 
The repetition of this morning call attached itself to the spot, 
and became the name of the city which was afterwards 
founded. 

Aleppo is built on the eastern slope of a shallow upland 
basin, through which flows the little River Koweik. There 
are low hills to the north and south, between which the coun- 
try falls into a wide, monotonous plain, extending unbroken 
to the Euphrates. The city is from eight to ten miles in cir- 
cuit, and, though not so thickly populated, covers a greater 
extent of space than Damascus. The population is estimated 
at 100,000. In the excellence (not the elegance) of its archi- 
tecture, it surpasses any Oriental city I have yet seen. The 
houses are all of hewn stone, frequently three and even four 
stories in height, and built in a most massive and durable 
style, on account of the frequency of earthquakes. The streets 
are well paved, clean, with narrow sidewalks, and less tortuous 
and intricate than the bewildering alleys of Damascus. A 
large part of the town is occupied with bazaars, attesting the 
splendor of its former commerce. These establishments are 
covered with lofty vaults of stone, lighted from the top ; and 
one may walk for miles beneath the spacious roofs. The shops 
exhibit all the stuffs of the East, especially of Persia and 
India. There is also an extensive display of European fabrics, 
as the eastern provinces of Asiatic Turkey, as far as Baghdad, 
are supplied entirely from Aleppo and Trebizond. 

Within ten years — in fact, since the Allied Powers drove 



TRADE OF ALEPPO. 



201 



Ibrahim Pasha out of Syria — the trade df Aleppo has increased, 
at the expense of Damascus. The tribes of the Desert, who 
were held in check during the Egyptian occupancy, are now 
so unruly that much of the commerce between the latter place 
and Baghdad goes northward to Mosul, and thence by a safer 
road to this city. The khans, of which there are a great num- 
ber, built on a scale according with the former magnificence of 
Aleppo, are nearly all filled, and Persian, Georgian, and Arme- 
nian merchants again make their appearance in the bazaars. 
The principal manufactures carried on are the making of shoes 
(which, indeed, is a prominent branch in every Turkish city), 
and the weaving of silk and golden tissues. Two long bazaars 
are entirely occupied with shoe-shops, and there is nearly a 
quarter of a mile of confectionery, embracing more varieties 
than I ever saw, or imagined possible. I saw yesterday the 
operation of weaving silk and gold, which is a very slow pro- 
cess. The warp and the body of the woof were of purple silk. 
The loom only differed from the old hand-looms in general use 
in having some thirty or forty contrivances for lifting the 
threads of the warp, so as to form, by variation, certain pat- 
terns. The gold threads by which the pattern was worked 
were contained in twenty small shuttles, thrust by hand under 
the different parcels of the warp, as they were raised by a boy 
trained for that purpose, who sat on the top of the loom. The 
fabric was very brilliant in its appearance, and sells, as the 
weavers informed me, at 100 piastres per pik — about $7 per 
yard. 

We had letters to Mr. Ford, an American Missionary estab- 
lished here, and Signor di Picciotto, who acts as American 
Vice-Consul, Both gentlemen have been very cordial in their 



202 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



offers of service, and by their aid we hare been enabled to see 
something of Aleppo life and society. Mr. Ford, who has been 
here fonr years, has a pleasant residence at Jedaida, a Christian 
suburb of the city. His congregation numbers some fifty or 
sixty proselytes, who are mostly from the schismatic sects of 
the Armenians. Dr. Smith, who established the mission at 
Ain-tab (two days' journey north of this), where he died last 
year, was very successful among these sects, and the congrega- 
tion there amounts to nine hundred. The Sultan, a year ago, 
issued a firman, permitting his Christian subjects to erect- 
houses of worship ; but, although this was proclaimed in Con- 
stantinople and much lauded in Europe as an act of great 
generosity and tolerance, there has been no official promulga- 
tion of it here. So of the aid which the Turkish Government 
was said to have afforded to its destitute Christian subjects, 
whose houses were sacked during the fanatical rebellion of 1850. 
The world praised the Sultan's charity and love of justice, 
while the sufferers, to this day, lack the first experience of it. 
But for the spontaneous relief contributed in Europe and " 
among the Christian communities of the Levant, the amount 
of misery would have been frightful. 

To Feridj Pasha, who is at present the commander of the 
forces here, is mainly due the credit of having put down the 
rebels with a strong hand. There were but few troops in the 
city at the time of the outbreak, and as the insurgents, who 
were composed of the Turkish and Arab population, were in 
league with the Aneyzehs of the Desert, the least faltering or 
delay would have led to a universal massacre of the Christians. 
Fortunately, the troops were divided into two portions, one 
occupying the barracks on a hill north of the city, and the 



THE REVOLT OF 1850. 



203 



other, a mere corporal's guard of a dozen men, posted in the 
citadel. The leaders of the outbreak went to the latter and 
offered him a large sum of money (the spoils of Christian 
houses) to give up the fortress. With a loyalty to his duty 
truly miraculous among the Turks, he ordered his men to fire 
upon them, and they beat a hasty retreat. The quarter of the 
insurgents lay precisely between the barracks and the citadel, 
and by order of Feridj Pasha a cannonade was immediately 
opened on it from both points. It was not, however, until 
many houses had been battered down, and a still larger number 
destroyed by fire, that the rebels were brought to submission. 
Their allies, the Aneyzehs, appeared on the hill east of Ale]3po, 
to the number of five or six thousand, but a few well-directed 
cannon-balls told them what they might expect, and they 
speedily retreated. Two or three hundred Christian families 
lost nearly all of their property during the sack, and many 
were left entirely destitute. The house in which Mr. Ford 
lives was plundered of jewels and furniture to the amount of 
400,000 piastres ($20,000). The robbers, it is said, were 
amazed at the amount of spoil they found. The Government 
made some feeble efforts to recover it, but the greater part 
was already sold and scattered through a thousand hands, and 
the unfortunate Christians have only received about seven per 
cent, of their loss. 

The burnt quarter has since been rebuilt, and I noticed 
several Christians occupying shops in various parts oi it. But 
many families, who fled at the time, still remain in various 
parts of Syria, afraid to return to their homes. The Aneyzehs 
and other Desert tribes have latterly become more daring than 
ever. Even in the immediate neighborhood of the city, the 



204 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX. 



inhabitants are so fearful of them that all the grain is brought 
up to the very walls to be threshed. The burying-grounds on 
both sides are now turned into threshing-floors, and all day 
long the Turkish peasants drive their heavy sleds around 
among the tomb-stones. 

On the second day after our arrival, we paid a visit to 
Osman Pasha, Governor of the City and Province of Aleppo. 
TVe went in state, accompanied by the Consul, with two janis- 
saries in front, bearing silver maces, and a dragoman behind. 
The serai, or palace, is a large, plain wooden building, and a 
group of soldiers about the door, with a shabby carriage in the 
court, were the only tokens of its character. TTe were ushered 
at once into the presence of the Pasha, who is a man of about 
seventy years, with a good-humored,- though shrewd face. He 
was quite cordial in his manners, complimenting us on our 
Turkish costume, and vaunting his skill in physiognomy, which 
at once revealed to him that we belonged to the highest class 
of American nobility. In fact, in the firman which he has 
since sent us, we are mentioned as " nobles." He invited us 
to pass a day or two with him, saying that he should derive 
much benefit from our superior knowledge. We replied that 
such an intercourse could only benefit ourselves, as his greater 
experience, and the distinguished wisdom which had made his 
name long since familiar to our ears, precluded the hope of our 
being of any service to him. After half an hour's stay, during 
which we were regaled with jewelled pipes, exquisite Mocha 
coffee, and sherbet breathing of the gardens of Gulistan, we 
took our leave. 

The Pasha sent an officer to show us the citadel. TVe 
passed around the moat to the entrance on the western side, 



THE CITADEL. 



205 



consisting of a bridge and double gateway. The fortress, as I 
have already stated, occupies the crest of an elliptical mound, 
about one thousand feet by six hundred, and two hundred feet 
in height. It is entirely encompassed by the city and forms a 
prominent and picturesque feature in the distant view thereof. 
Formerly, it was thickly inhabited, and at the time of the great 
earthquake of 1822, there were three hundred families living 
within the walls, nearly all of whom perished. The outer walls 
were very much shattered on that occasion, but the enormous 
towers and the gateway, the grandest specimen of Saracenic 
architecture in the East, still remain entire. This gateway, by 
which we entered, is colossal in its proportions. The outer 
entrance, through walls ten feet thick, admitted us into a lofty 
vestibule lined with marble, and containing many ancient 
inscriptions in mosaic. Over the main portal, which is adorned 
with sculptured lions' heads, there is a tablet stating that the 
fortress was built by El Melek el Ashraf (the Holiest of 
Kings), after which follows : " Prosperity to the True Believ- 
ers — Death to the Infidels I" A second tablet shows that it 
was afterwards repaired by Mohammed ebn-Berkook, who, I 
believe, was one of the Fatimite Caliphs. The shekh of the 
citadel, who accompanied us, stated the age of the structure 
at nine hundred years, which, as nearly as I can recollect the 
Saracenic chronology, is correct. He called our attention to 
numbers of iron arrow-heads sticking in the solid masonry — 
the marks of ancient sieges. Before leaving, we were presented 
with a bundle of arrows from the armory — undoubted relics 
of Saracen warfare. 

The citadel is now a mass of ruins, having been deserted 
Bince the earthquake. Grass is growing on the ramparts, and 



206 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the caper plant, with its white-and-purpie blossoms, flourishes 
among the piles of rubbish. Since the late rebellion, however, 
a small military barrack has been built, and two companies of 
soldiers are stationed there. TVe walked around the walls, 
which command a magnificent view of the city and the wide 
plains to the south and east. It well deserves to rank with the 
panorama of Cairo from the citadel, and that of Damascus from 
the Anti-Lebanon, in extent, picturesqueness and rich oriental 
character. Out of the gray ring of the city, which incloses 
the mound, rise the great white domes and the whiter minarets 
of its numerous mosques, many of which are grand and impos- 
ing structures. The course of the river through the centre of 
the picture is marked by a belt of the greenest verdure, beyond 
which, to the west, rises a chain of naked red hills, and still 
further, fading on the horizon, the blue summit of Mt. St. 
Simon, and the coast range of Akma Dagh. Eastward, over 
vast orchards of pistachio trees, the barren plain of the 
Euphrates fades away to a glimmering, hot horizon. Looking 
downwards on the heart of the city, I was surprised to see a 
number of open, grassy tracts, out of which, here and there, 
small trees were growing. But, perceiving what appeared to be 
subterranean entrances at various points, I found that these 
tracts were upon the roofs of the houses and bazaars, verifying 
what I had frequently heard, that in Aleppo the inhabitants 
visit their friends in different parts of the city, by passing over 
the roofs of the houses. Previous to the earthquake of 1822, 
these vast roof-plains were cultivated as gardens, and presented 
an extent of airy bowers as large, if not as magnificent, as 
the renowned Hanging Gardens of ancient Babylon. 

Accompanied by Signor di Picciotto, we spent two or three 



SOCIETY IN ALEPPO. 



207 



days in visiting the houses of the principal Jewish and Chris- 
tian families in Aleppo. We found, it is true, no such splendor 
as in Damascus, but more solid and durable architecture, and a 
more chastened elegance of taste. The buildings are all of 
hewn stone, the court-yards paved with marble, and the walls 
rich with gilding and carved wood. Some of the larger dwell- 
ings have small but beautiful gardens attached to them. We 
were everywhere received with the greatest hospitality, and 
the visits were considered as a favor rather than an intrusion. 
Indeed, I was frequently obliged to run the risk of giving 
offence, by declining the refreshments which were offered us. 
Each round of visits was a feat of strength, and we were 
obliged to desist from sheer inability to support more coffee, 
rose-water, pipes, and aromatic sweetmeats. The character of 
society in Aleppo is singular ; its very life and essence is eti- 
quette. The laws which govern it are more inviolable than 
those of the Medes and Persians. The question of precedence 
among the different families is adjusted by the most delicate 
scale, and rigorously adhered to in the most trifling matters. 
Even we, humble voyagers as we are, have been obliged to 
regulate our conduct according to it. After our having visited 
certain families, certain others would have been deeply morti- 
fied had we neglected to call upon them. Formerly, when a 
traveller arrived here, he was expected to call upon the dif- 
ferent Consuls, in the order of their established precedence : 
the Austrian first, English second, French third, &c. After 
this, he was obliged to stay at home several days, to give the 
Consuls an opportunity of returning the visits, which they 
made in the same order. There was a diplomatic importance 
about all his movements, and the least violation of eti* 



208 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



quette, through ignorance or neglect, was the town talk for 
days. 

This peculiarity in society is evidently a relic of the formal 
times, when Aleppo was a semi- Venetian city, and the opulent 
seat of Eastern commerce. Many of the inhabitants are 
descended from the traders of those times, and they all speak 
the lingua franca, or Levantine Italian. The women wear a 
costume partly Turkish and partly European, combining the 
graces of both ; it is, in my eyes, the most beautiful dress in 
the world. They wear a rich scarf of some dark color on the 
head, which, on festive occasions, is almost concealed by their 
jewels, and the heavy scarlet pomegranate blossoms which 
adorn their dark hair. A Turkish vest and sleeves of embroi- 
dered silk, open in front, and a skirt of white or some light 
color, completes the costume. The Jewesses wear in addition 
a short Turkish caftan, and full trousers gathered at the ankles. 
At a ball given by Mr. Yery, the English Consul, which we 
attended, all the Christian beauties of Aleppo were present 
There was a fine display of diamonds, many of the ladies wear- 
ing several thousand dollars' worth on their heads. The pecu- 
liar etiquette of the place was again illustrated on this occa- 
sion. The custom is, that the music must be heard for at least 
one hour before the guests come. The hour appointed was 
eight, but when we went there, at nine, nobody had arrived 
As it was generally supposed that the ball was given on our 
account, several of the families had servants in the neighbor- 
hood to watch our arrival ; and, accordingly, we had not been 
there five minutes before the guests crowded through the door 
in large numbers. When the first dance (an Arab dance, per- 
formed by two ladies at a time) was proposed, the wives of the 



JEWISH MARRIAGE FESTIVITIES. 



209 



French and Spanish Consuls were first led, or rather dragged, 
out. When a lady is asked to dance, she invariably refuses, 
She is asked a second and a third time ; and if the gentleman 
does not solicit most earnestly, and use some gentle force in 
getting her upon the floor, she never forgives him. 

At one of the Jewish houses which we visited, the wedding 
festivities of one of the daughters were being celebrated. We 
were welcomed with great cordiality, and immediately ushered 
into the room of state, an elegant apartment, overlooking the 
gardens below the city w r all. Half the room was occupied by 
a raised platform, with a divan of blue silk cushions. Here 
the ladies reclined, in superb dresses of blue, pink, and gold, 
while the gentlemen were ranged on the floor below. They all 
rose at our entrance, and we were conducted to seats among 
the ladies. Pipes and perfumed drinks were served, and the 
bridal cake, made of twenty-six different fruits, was presented 
on a golden salver. Our fair neighbors, some of whom literal- 
ly blazed w r ith jewels, were strikingly beautiful. Presently the 
bride appeared at the door, and we all rose and remained 
standing, as she advanced, supported on each side by the two 
shebeeniyeh, or bridesmaids. She was about sixteen, slight and 
graceful in appearance, though not decidedly beautiful, and 
was attired with the utmost elegance. Her dress was a pale 
blue silk, heavy with gold embroidery; and over her long dark 
hair, her neck, bosom, and wrists, played a thousand rainbow 
gleams from the jewels which covered them. The Jewish musi- 
cians, seated at the bottom of the hall, struck up a loud, 
rejoicing harmony on their violins, guitars, and dulcimers, and 
the women servants, grouped at the door, uttered in chorus that 
wild, shrill cry, which accompanies all such festivals in the Bast, 



! 



210 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



The bride was careful to preserve the decorum expected of 
her by speaking no word, nor losing the sad, resigned expres- 
sion of her countenance. She ascended to the divan, bowed 
to each of us with a low, reverential inclination, and seated 
herself on the cushions. The music and dances lasted some 
time, accompanied by the zughdreet, or cry of the women, 
which was repeated with double force when we rose to take* 
leave. The whole company waited on us to the street door, 
and one of the servants, stationed in the court, shouted some 
long, sing-song phrases after us as we passed out. I could not 
learn the words, but was told that it was an invocation 
of prosperity upon us, in return for the honor which our visit 
had conferred. 

In the evening I went to view a Christian marriage proces- 
sion, which, about midnight, conveyed the bride to the house 
of the bridegroom. The house, it appeared, was too small to 
receive all the friends of the family, and I joined a large num- 
ber of them, who repaired to the terrace of the English Con- 
sulate, to greet the procession as it passed. The first persons 
who appeared were a company of buffoons ; after them four 
janissaries, carrying silver maces ; then the male friends, bear- 
ing colored lanterns and perfumed torches, raised on gilded 
poles ; then the females, among whom I saw some beautiful 
Madonna faces in the torchlight ; and finally the bride herself, 
covered from head to foot with a veil of cloth of gold, and 
urged along by two maidens : for it is the etiquette of such 
occasions that the bride should resist being taken, and must be 
forced every step of the way, so that she is frequently three 
hours in going the distance of a mile. "We watched the pro- 
cession a long time, winding away through the streets — a line 



RIDE AROUND THE CITY. 



211 



of torches, and songs, and incense, and noisy jubilee— under 
the sweet starlit heaven. 

The other evening, Signor di Picciotto mounted us from his 
fine Arabian stud, and we rode around the city, outside of the 
suburbs. The sun was low, and a pale yellow lustre touched 
the clusters of minarets that rose out of the stately masses of 
buildings, and the bare, chalky hills to the north. After leav- 
ing the gardens on the banks of the Koweik, we came upon a 
dreary waste of ruins, among which the antiquarian finds 
traces of the ancient Aleppo of the Greeks, the Mongolian con- 
querors of the Middle Ages, and the Saracens who succeeded 
them. There are many mosques and tombs, which were once 
imposing specimens of Saracenic art ; but now, split and shivered 
by wars and earthquakes, are slowly tumbling into utter decay. 
On the south-eastern side of the city, its chalk foundations 
have been hollowed into vast, arched caverns, which extend 
deep into the earth. Pillars have been left at regular inter- 
vals, to support the masses above, and their huge, dim laby- 
rinths resemble the crypts of some great cathedral. They are 
now used as rope-walks, and filled with cheerful workmen. 

Our last excursion was to a country-house of Signor di Pic- 
ciotto, in the Gardens of Babala, about four miles from Aleppo. 
We set out in the afternoon on our Arabians, with our host's 
son on a large white donkey of the Baghdad breed. Passing 
the Turkish cemetery, where we stopped to view the tomb of 
General Bern, we loosened rein and sped away at full gallop 
over the hot, white hills. In dashing down a stony rise, the 
ambitious donkey, who was doing his best to keep up with the 
horses, fell, hurling Master Picciotto over his head. The boy 
was bruised a little, but set his teeth together and showed no 



212 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



sign of pain, mounted again, and followed ns. The Gardens of 
Babala are a wilderness of fruit-trees, like those of Damascus. 
Sign or P.'s country-house is buried in a wild grove of apricot, 
fig, orange, and pomegranate-frees. A large marble tank, in 
front of the open, arched liwan, supplies it with water. We 
mounted to the flat roof, and watched the sunset fade from the 
beautiful landscape. Beyond the bowers of dazzling greenness 
which surrounded us, stretched the wide, gray hills ; the mina- 
rets of Aleppo, and the wails of its castled mount shone rosily 
in the last rays of the sun : an old palace of the Pashas, with 
the long, low barracks of the soldiery, crowned the top of a 
hill to the narrh : dark, spiny cypresses betrayed the place of 
tombs ; and, to the west, beyond the bare red peak of Mount 
St, Simon, rose the faint blue outline of Giaour Dagh, whose 
mural chain divides Syria from the plains of Ciiicia. As the 
twilight deepened over the scene, there came a long, melodious 
cry of passion and of sorrow from the heart of a starry-flowered 
pomegranate tree in the garden, Other voice- answered it 
from the gardens around, until not one. but fifty nightingales 
charmed the repose of the hour. They vied with each other in 
their bursts of passionate music. Each strain soared over the 
last, or united with others, near and far, in a chorus of the 
divinest pathos — an expression of sweet, unutterable, unquench- 
able longing. It was an ecstasy, yet a pain, to listen. 
"Away I" said Jean Paul to Music : thou teilest me of that 
which I have not, and never can have — which I forever seek, 
and never find !"■ 

But space fails me to describe half the incidents of our stay 
in Aleppo. There are two things peculiar to the city, how- 
ever, which I must not omit mentioning. One is the Aleppo 



THE ALEPPO BUTTON— CATS. 



213 



Button, a singular ulcer, which attacks every person born in 
the city, and every stranger who spends more than a month 
there. It can neither be prevented nor cured, and always lasts 
for a year. The inhabitants almost invariably have it on the 
face — either on the cheek, forehead, or tip of the nose — where 
it often leaves an indelible and disfiguring scar. Strangers, on 
the contrary, have it on one of the joints, either the elbow, 
wrist, knee, or ankle. So strictly is its visitation confined to 
the city proper, that in none of the neighboring villages, nor 
even in a distant suburb, is it known. Physicians have vainly 
attempted to prevent it by inoculation, and are at a loss to 
what cause to ascribe it. We are liable to have it, even after 
five days' stay ; but I hope it will postpone its appearance 
until after I reach home. 

The other remarkable thing here is the Hospital for Cats. 
This was founded long ago by a rich, cat-loving Mussulman, 
and is one of the best endowed institutions in the city. An 
old mosque is appropriated to the purpose, under the charge 
of several directors ; and here sick cats are nursed, homeless 
cats find shelter, and decrepit cats gratefully purr away their 
declining years. The whole category embraces several hundreds, 
and it is quite a sight to behold the court, the corridors, and 
terraces of the mosque swarniing with them. Here, one with 
a bruised limb is receiving a cataplasm ; there, a cataleptic 
patient is tenderly cared for ; and so on, through the long con- 
catenation of feline diseases. Aleppo, moreover, rejoices in a 
greater number of cats than even Jerusalem. At a rough 
guess, I should thus state the population of the city : Turks 
and Arabs, 10,000 ; Christians of all denominations, 15,000 ■ 
Jews, 10,000 ; logs, 12,000 ; and cats, 8,000. 



214 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Among other persons whom I have met here, is Ferhat 
Pasha, formerly General Stein, Hungarian Minister of War, 
and Governor of Transylvania. He accepted Moslemism with 
Bern and others, and now rejoices in his circumcision and T,000 
piastres a month. He is a fat, companionable sort of man, 
who, by his own confession, never labored very zealously for the 
independence of Hungary, being an Austrian by birth. He 
conversed with me for several hours on the scenes in which he 
had participated, and attributed the failure of the Hungarians 
to the want of material means. General Bern, who died here, 
is spoken of with the utmost respect, both by Turks and Chris- 
tians. The former have honored him with a large tomb, or 
mausoleum, covered with a dome. 

But I must close, leaving half unsaid. Suffice it to say 
that no Oriental city has interested me so profoundly as Aleppo, 
and in none have I received such universal and cordial hospi- 
tality. We leave to-morrow for Asia Minor, having engaged 
men and horses for the whole route to Constantinople. 



AN INAUSPICIOUS DEPARTURE. 



216 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THROUGH THE SYRIAN GATES. 

An Inauspicious Departure— The Ruined Church of St. Simon— The Plain of Antioch— A 
Turcoman Encampment — Climbing Akma Dagh — The Syrian Gates — Scanderoon — An 
American Captain — Revolt of the Koords — We take a Guard — The Field of Issus— 
The Robber-Chief, Kutchuk Ali — A Deserted Town — A Land of Gardens. 

" Mountains, on whose barren breast 
The lab'ring clouds do often rest.'* 

Milton. 

In Quarantine (Adana, Asia Minor), Tuesday, June 15, 1852. 

We left Aleppo on the morning of the 9th, under circumstances 
not the most promising for the harmony of our journey. We 
had engaged horses and baggage-mules from the capidji, or 
chief of the muleteers, and in order to be certain ot having 
animals that would not break down on the way, made a par- 
ticular selection from a number that were brought us. When 
about leaving the city, however, we discovered that one of the 
horses had been changed. Signor di Picciotto, who accompa- 
nied us past the Custom-House barriers, immediately dispatched 
the delinquent muleteer to bring back the true horse, and the 
latter made a farce of trying to find him, leading the Consu] 
and the capidji (who, I believe, was at the bottom of the 
cheat) a wild-goose chase ovef the hills around Aleppo, where 
of course, the animal was not to be seen. When, at length, 



216 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



we had waited three hours, and had wandered about four miles 
from the city, we gave up the search, took leave of the Consul 
and went on with the new horse. Our proper plan would have 
been to pitch the tent and refuse to move till the matter was 
settled. The animal, as we discovered during the first day's 
journey, was hopelessly lame, and we only added to the diffi- 
culty by taking him. 

We rode westward all day over barren and stony hills, 
meeting with abundant traces of the power and prosperity of 
this region during the times of the Greek Emperors. The 
devastation wrought by earthquakes has been terrible ; there 
is scarcely a wall or arch standing, which does not bear marks 
of having been violently shaken. The walls inclosing the fig- 
orchards near the villages contain many stones with Greek 
inscriptions, and fragments of cornices. We encamped the 
first night on the plain at the foot of Mount St. Simon, and 
not far from the ruins of the celebrated Church of the same 
name. The building stands in a stony wilderness at the foot 
of the mountain. It is about a hundred feet long and thirty 
in height, with two lofty square towers in front. The pave- 
ment of the interior is entirely concealed by the masses of 
pillars, capitals, and hewn blocks that lie heaped upon it. The 
windows, which are of the tall, narrow, arched form, commou 
in Byzantine Churches, have a common moulding which falls 
like a mantle over and between them. The general effect of 
the Church is very fine, though there is much inelegance in the 
sculptured details. At the extremity is a half-dome of massive 
stone, over the place of the altar, and just in front of this for- 
merly stood the pedestal whereon, according to tradition, 
St. Simeon Stylites commenced his pillar-life. I found a recent 



THE PLAIN OF ANTIOCH. 



21T 



excavation at the spot, but no pedestal, which has probably 
been carried off by the Greek monks. Beside the Church 
stands a large building, with an upper and lower balcony, sup- 
ported by square stone pillars, around three sides. There is 
also a paved court-yard, a large cistern cut in the rock and 
numerous out-buildings, all going to confirm the supposition of 
its having been a monastery. The main building is three 
stories high, with pointed gables, and bears a strong resem- 
blance to an American summer hotel, with verandas. Several 
ancient fig and walnut trees are growing among the ruins, and 
add to their picturesque appearance. 

The next day we crossed a broad chain of hills to the Plain 
of Antioch, which we reached near its northern extremity. In 
one of the valleys through which the road lay, we saw a num- 
ber of hot sulphur springs, some of them of a considerable 
volume of water. Not far from them was a beautiful fountain 
of fresh and cold water gushing from the foot of a high rock. 
Soon after reaching the plain, we crossed the stream of Kara 
Su, which feeds the Lake of Antioch. This part of the plain 
is low and swampy, and the streams are literally alive with fish. 
While passing over the bridge I saw many hundreds, from one 
to two feet in length. We wandered through the marshy 
meadows for two or three hours, and towards sunset reached a 
Turcoman encampment, where the ground was dry enough to 
pitch our tents. The rude tribe received us hospitably, and 
sent us milk and cheese in abundance. I visited the tent of the 
Shekh, who was very courteous, but as he knew no language 
but Turkish, our conversation was restricted to signs. The 
tent was of camePs-hair cloth, spacious, and open at the sides. 
A rug was spread for me, and the Shekh's wife brought me a 

10 



218 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



pipe of tolerable tobacco. The household were seated upon 
the ground, chatting pleasantly with one another, and appa- 
rently not in the least disturbed by my presence. One of the 
Shekh's sons, who was deaf and dumb, came and sat before me, 
and described by very expressive signs the character of the 
road to Scanderoon. He gave me to understand that there 
were robbers in the mountains, with many grim gestures 
descriptive of stabbing and firing muskets. 

The mosquitoes were so thick during the night that we were 
obliged to fill the tent with smoke in order to sleep. "When 
morning came, we fancied there would be a relief for us, but 
it only brought a worse pest, in the shape of swarms of black 
gnats, similar to those which so tormented me in Xubia. I 
know of no infliction so terrible as these gnats, which you can- 
not drive away, and which assail ears, eyes, and nostrils in 
such quantities that you become mad and desperate in your 
efforts to eject them. Through glens filled with oleander, we 
ascended the first slopes of Akma Dagh, the mountain range 
which divides the Gulf of Scanderoon from the Plain of 
Antioch. Then, passing a natural terrace, covered with 
groves of oak, our road took the mountain side, climbing 
upwards in the shadow of pine and wild olive trees, and between 
banks of blooming lavender and myrtle. "We saw two or 
three companies of armed guards, stationed by the road-side, 
for the mountain is infested with robbers, and a caravan had 
been plundered only three days before. The view, looking 
backward, took in the whole plain, with the Lake of Antioch 
glittering in the centre, the valley of the Orontes in the south, 
and the lofty cone of Djebel Okrab far to the west. As 
we approached the summit, violent gusts of wind blew through 



THE SYRIAN GATES. 



219 



the pass with such force as almost to overturn our horses. 
Here the road from Antioch joins that from Aleppo, and both 
for some distance retain the ancient pavement. 

From the western side we saw the sea once more, and went 
down through the Pylce Syrice, or Syrian Gates, as this defile 
was called by the Romans. It is very narrow and rugged, 
with an abrupt descent. In an hour- from the summit we 
came upon an aqueduct of a triple row of arches, crossing the 
gorge. It is still used to carry water to the town of Beilan, 
which hangs over the mouth of the pass, half a mile below. 
This is one of the most picturesque spots in Syria. The houses 
cling to the sides and cluster on the summits of precipitous 
crags, and every shelf of soil, every crevice where a tree 
can thrust its roots, upholds a mass of brilliant vegetation. 
Water is the life of the place. It gushes into the street from 
exhaustless fountains ; it trickles from the terraces in showers 
of misty drops ; it tumbles into the gorge in sparkling streams ; 
and everywhere it nourishes a life as bright and beautiful 
as its own. The fruit trees are of enormous size, and the 
crags are curtained with a magnificent drapery of vines. This 
green gateway opens suddenly upon another, cut through 
a glittering mass of micaceous rock, whence one looks down on 
the town and Gulf of Scanderoon, the coast of Karamania 
beyond, and the distant snows of the Taurus. We descended 
through groves of pine and oak, and in three hours more 
reached the shore. 

Scanderoon is the most unhealthy place on the Syrian Coast, 
owing to the malaria from a marsh behind it. The inhabitants 
are a wretched pallid set, who are visited every year with 
devastating fevers. The marsh was partly drained some forty 



220 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



years ago by the Turkish government, and a few thousand 
dollars would be sufficient to remove it entirely, and make the 
place— which is of some importance as the seaport of Aleppo — 
healthy and habitable. At present, there are not five hundred 
inhabitants, and half of these consist of the Turkish garrison 
and the persons attached to the different Yice-Consulates. 
The streets are depositories of filth, and pools of stagnant 
water, on all sides, exhale the most fetid odors. Near the 
town are the ruins of a castle built by Godfrey of Bouillon. 
"We marched directly down to the sea-shore, and pitched our 
tent close beside the waves, as the place most free from mala- 
ria. There were a dozen vessels at anchor in the road, and 
one of them proved to be the American bark Columbia, Capt. 
Taylor. We took a skiff and went on board, where we were 
cordially welcomed by the mate. In the evening, the captain 
came to our tent, quite surprised to find two wandering Ameri- 
cans ^n such a lonely corner of the world. Soon afterwards, 
with true seaman-like generosity, he returned, bringing a jar 
of fine Spanish olives and a large bottle of pickles, which he 
insisted on adding to our supplies. The olives have the 
choicest Andalusian flavor, and the pickles lose none of their 
relish from having been put up in Xew York. 

The road from Scanderoon to this place lies mostly along 
the shore of the gulf, at the foot of Akma Dagh, and is 
reckoned dangerous on account of the marauding bands of 
Koords who infest the mountains. These people, like the 
Druses, have rebelled against the conscription, and will proba- 
bly hold their ground with equal success, though the Turks 
talk loudly of invading their strongholds. Two weeks ago, 
the post was robbed, about ten miles from Scanderoon, and a 



WE TAKE A GUARD. 



221 



government vessel, now lying at anchor in the bay, opened a 
cannonade on the plunderers, before they could be secured. 
In consequence of the warnings of danger in everybody's 
mouth, we decided to take an escort, and therefore waited 
upon the commander of the forces, with the firman of the 
Pasha of Aleppo. A convoy of two soldiers was at once 
promised us ; and at sunrise, next morning, they took the lead 
of our caravan. 

In order to appear more formidable, in case we should meet 
with robbers, we put on our Frank pantaloons, which had no 
other effect than to make the heat more intolerable. But we 
formed rather a fierce cavalcade, six armed men in all. Our 
road followed the shore of the bay, having a narrow, uninha- 
bited flat, covered with thickets of myrtle and mastic, between 
us and the mountains. The two soldiers, more valiant than 
the guard of Banias, rode in advance, and showed no signs of 
fear as we approached the suspicious places. The morning 
was delightfully clear, and the snow-crowned range of Taurus 
shone through the soft vapors hanging over the gulf. In one 
place, we skirted the shore for some distance, under a bank 
twenty feet in height, and so completely mantled with shrub- 
bery, that a small army might have hidden in it. There were 
gulleys at intervals, opening suddenly on our path, and we 
looked up them, expecting every moment to see the gleam of a 
Koordish gun-barrel, or a Turcoman spear, above the tops of 
the myrtles. 

Crossing a promontory which makes out from the moun- 
tains, we came upon the renowned plain of Issus, where Darius 
lost his kingdom to Alexander. On a low cliff overhanging 
the sea, there are the remains of a single tower of gray stone. 



222 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



The people in Scanderoon call it "Jonah's Pillar," and say 
that it marks the spot where the Xinevite was cast ashore by 
the whale. [This makes three places on the Syrian coast 
where Jonah was vomited forth.] The plain of Issus is from 
two to three miles long, but not more than half a mile wide. 
It is traversed by a little river, supposed to be the Pinarus, 
which comes down through a tremendous cleft in the Akma 
Dagh. The ground seems too small for the battle-field of such 
armies as were engaged on the occasion. It is bounded on the 
north by a low hill, separating it from the plain of Baias, and 
it is possible that Alexander may have made choice of this 
position, leaving the unwieldy forces of Darius to attack him 
from the plain. His advantage would be greater, on account 
of the long, narrow form of the ground, which would prevent 
him from being engaged with more than a small portion of the 
Persian army, at one time. The plain is now roseate with 
blooming oleanders, but almost entirely uncultivated. About 
midway there are the remains of an ancient quay jutting into 
the sea. 

Soon after leaving the field of Issus, we reached the town 
of Baias, which is pleasantly situated on the shore, at the 
mouth of a river whose course through the plain is marked 
with rows of tall poplar trees. The walls of the town, and the 
white dome and minaret of its mosque, rose dazzlingly against 
the dark blue of the sea, and the purple stretch of the moun- 
tains of Karamania. A single palm lifted its crest in the fore- 
ground. We dismounted for breakfast under the shade of an 
old bridge which crosses the river. It was a charming spot, 
the banks above and below being overhung with oleander, 
white rose, honeysuckle and clematis. The two guardsmen 



THE ROBBER CHIEF. 



223 



finished the remaining half of oar Turcoman cheese, and almost 
exhausted our supply of bread. I gave one of them a cigar, 
which he was at a loss how to smoke, until our muleteer 
showed him. 

Bai'as was celebrated fifty years ago, as the residence of the 
robber chief, Kutchuk Ali, who, for a long time, braved the 
authority of the Porte itself. He was in the habit of levying 
a yearly tribute on the caravan to Mecca, and the better to 
enforce his claims, often suspended two or three of his cap- 
tives at the gates of the town, a day or two before the caravan 
arrived. Several expeditions were sent against him, but he 
always succeeded in bribing the commanders, who, on their 
return to Constantinople, made such representations that 
Kutchuk Ali, instead of being punished, received one dignity 
after another, until finally he attained the rank of a Pasha of 
two tails. This emboldened him to commit enormities too 
great to be overlooked, and in 1812 Bai'as was taken, and the 
atrocious nest of land-pirates broken up. 

I knew that the town had been sacked on this occasion, but 
was not prepared to find such a complete picture of desolation. 
The place is surrounded with a substantial wall, with two gate* 
ways, on the north and south. A bazaar, covered with a lofty 
vaulted roof of stone, runs directly through from gate to gate ; 
and there was still a smell of spices in the air, on entering 
The massive shops on either hand, with their open doors, 
invited possession, and might readily be made habitable again. 
The great iron gates leading from the bazaar into the khans 
and courts, still swing on their rusty hinges. We rode into 
the court of the mosque, which is surrounded with a light and 
elegant corridor, supported by pillars. The grass has as yet 



2U 



the lands of the Saracen. 



but partially invaded the marble pavement, and a stone draft- 
ing-trough still stands in the centre. I urged my horse up the 
steps and into the door of the mosque. It is in the form of 
a Greek cross, with a dome in the centre, resting on four very 
elegant pointed arches. There is an elaborately gilded and 
painted gallery of wood over the entrance, and the pulpit 
opposite is as well preserved as if the mollah had just left it. 
Out of the mosque we passed into, a second court, and then 
over a narrow bridge into the fortress. The moat is perfect, 
and the walls as complete as if just erected. Only the bottom 
is dry, and now covered with a thicket of wild pomegranate 
trees. The heavy iron doors of the fortress swung half open, 
as we entered unchallenged. The interior is almost entire, 
and some of the cannon still lie buried in the springing grass. 
The plan of the little town, which appears to have been all 
built at one time, is most admirable. The walls of circuit, 
including the fortress, cannot be more than 300 yards square, 
and yet none of the characteristics of a large Oriental city are 
omitted. 

Leaving Baias, we travelled northward, over a waste, 
though fertile plain. The mountains on our right made 
a grand appearance, with their feet mantled in myrtle, and their 
tops plumed with pine. They rise from the sea with a long, 
bold sweep, but each peak falls off in a precipice on the oppo- 
site side, as if the chain were the barrier of the world and 
there was nothing but space beyond. In the afternoon we 
left the plain for a belt of glorious garden land, made by 
streams that came down from the mountains. We entered a 
lane embowered in pomegranate, white rose, clematis, and 
other flowering vines and shrubs, and overarched by superb 



A LAND OF GARDENS. 



225 



plane, lime, and beech trees, chained together with giant grape 
vines. On either side were fields of ripe wheat and bar- 
ley, mulberry orchards and groves of fruit trees, under the 
shade of which the Turkish families sat or slept during the 
hot hours of the day. Birds sang in the boughs, and the 
gurgling of water made a cool undertone to their music. Out 
of fairyland where shall I see again such lovely bowers ? We 
were glad when the soldiers announced that it was necessary 
to encamp there ; as we should find no other habitations for 
more than twenty miles. 

Our tent was pitched under a grand sycamore, beside a 
swift mountain stream which almost made the circuit of our 
camp. Beyond the tops of the elm, beech, and fig groves, we 
saw the picturesque green summits of the lower ranges of 
Giaour Dagh, in the north-east, while over the southern 
meadows a golden gleam of sunshine lay upon the Gulf of 
Scanderoon. The village near us was Chaya, where there is a 
military station. The guards we had brought from Scan- 
deroon here left us ; but the commanding officer advised us to 
take others on the morrow, as the road was stil" considered 
unsafe. 



10* 



226 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

ADANA AND TARSUS. 

The Black Gate— The Plain of Cilicia— A Koord Tillage — Missis— Cilician Scenery- 
Arrival at Adana— Three days in Quarantine— We receive Pratique— A Landscape — 
The Plain of Tarsus— The River Cydnus — A Vision of Cleopatra— Tarsus and its 
Environs — The Duniktash — The Moon of Ramazan. 

" Paul said, I am a man which am a Jew of Tarsus, a city in Cilicia, a citizen of no 
mean city." — Acts, xxi. 39. 

Khan on Mr. Taurus, Saturday, June 19, 1852. 

"We left our camp at Chaya at dawn, with an escort of three 
soldiers, which we borrowed from the guard stationed at that 
place. The path led along the shore, through clumps of 
myrtle beaten inland by the wind, and rounded as smoothly as 
if they had been clipped by a gardener's shears. As we 
approached the head of the gulf, the peaked summits of Giaour 
Dagh, 10,000 feet in height, appeared in the north-east. The 
streams we forded swarmed with immense trout. A brown 
hedgehog ran across our road, but when I touched him with 
the end of my pipe, rolled himself into an impervious ball of 
prickles. Soon after turning the head of the gulf, the road 
swerved off to the west, and entered a narrow pass, between 
hills covered with thick copse-wood. Here we came upon an 
ancient gateway of black lava stone, which bears marks of 



THE PLAIN OF CILICIA. 



227 



great antiquity It is now called Kara Kapu, the " Black 
Gate," and some suppose it to have been one of the ancient 
gates of Cilicia. 

Beyond this, our road led over high, grassy hills, without a 
sign of human habitation, to the ruined khan of Koord Koolak. 
We dismounted and unloaded our baggage in the spacious 
stone archway, and drove our beasts into the dark, vaulted 
halls behind. The building was originally intended for a 
magazine of supplies, and from the ruined mosque near it, I 
suspect it was formerly one of the caravan stations for the 
pilgrims from Constantinople to Mecca. The weather was 
intensely hot and sultry, and our animals were almost crazy 
from the attacks of a large yellow gad-fly. After the noonday 
heat was over we descended to the first Cilician plain, which is 
bounded on the west by the range of Durdun Dagh. As we 
had now passed the most dangerous part of the road, we dis- 
missed the three soldiers and took but a single man with us. 
The entire plain is covered with wild fennel, six to eight feet in 
height, and literally blazing with its bloomy yellow tops 
Riding through it, I could barely look over them, and far and 
wide, on all sides, spread a golden sea, out of which the long 
violet hills rose with the loveliest effect. Brown, shining 
serpents, from four to six feet in length, frequently slid across 
our path. The plain, which must be sixty miles in circumfe- 
rence, is wholly uncultivated, though no land could possibly be 
richer. 

Out of the region of fennel we passed into one of red and 
white clover, timothy grass and wild oats. The thistles were 
so large as to resemble young palm-trees, and the salsify of our 
gardens grew rank and wild. At length we dipped into the 



228 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



evening shadow of D urchin Dagh, and reached the village of 
Koord Keui, on his lower slope. As there was no place for 
our tent on the rank grass of the plain or the steep side of the 
hill, we took forcible possession of the winnowing-floor, a flat 
terrace built up under two sycamores, and still covered with 
the chaff of the last threshing. The Koords took the whole 
thing as a matter of course, and even brought us a felt carpet 
to rest upon. They came and seated themselves around us, 
chatting sociably, while we lay in the tent-door, smoking the 
pipe of refreshment. The view over the wide golden plain, 
and the hills beyond, to the distant, snow-tipped peaks of 
Akma Dagh, was superb, as the shadow of the mountain behind 
us slowly lengthened over it, blotting out the mellow lights of 
sunset. There were many fragments of pillars and capitals of 
white marble built up in the houses, showing that they occu- 
pied the site of some ancient village or temple. 

The next morning, we crossed Durdun Dagh, and entered 
the great plain of Cilicia. The range, after we had passed it, 
presented a grand, bold, broken outline, blue in the morning 
vapor, and wreathed with shifting belts of cloud. A stately 
castle, called the Palace of Serpents, on the summit of an 
isolated peak to the north, stood out clear and high, in the 
midst of a circle of fog, like a phantom picture of the air. The 
River Jyhoon, the ancient Pyramus, which rises on the borders 
of Armenia, sweeps the western base of the mountains. It is 
a larger stream than the Orontes, with a deep, rapid current, 
flowing at the bottom of a bed lower than the level of the 
plain. In three hours, we reached Missis, the ancient Mop- 
suestia, on the right bank of the river. There are extensive 
ruins on the left bank, which were probably those of the" for- 



ARRIVAL AT AD AN A. 



229 



mer city. The soil for some distance around is scattered with 
broken pillars, capitals, and hewn stones. The ancient bridge 
still crosses the river, but the central arch having been broken 
away, is replaced with a wooden platform. The modern town 
is a forlorn place, and all the glorious plain around it is uncul- 
tivated. The view over this plain was magnificent : unbounded 
towards the sea, but on the north girdled by the sublime range 
of Taurus, whose great snow-fields gleamed in the sun. In the 
afternoon, we reached the old bridge over the Jyhoon, at 
Adana. The eastern bank is occupied with the graves of the 
former inhabitants, and there are at least fifteen acres of tomb- 
stones, as thickly planted as the graves can be dug. The fields 
of wheat and barley along the river are very rich, and at pre- 
sent the natives are busily occupied in drawing the sheaves on 
large sleds to the open threshing-floors. 

The city is built over a low eminence, and its four tall mina- 
rets, with a number of palm-trees rising from the mass of 
brown brick walls, reminded me of Egypt. At the end of the 
bridge, we were met by one of the Quarantine officers, who 
preceded us, taking care that we touched nobody in the streets, 
to the Quarantine building. This land quarantine, between 
Syria and Asia Minor, when the former country is free from 
any epidemic, seems a most absurd thing. We were detained 
at Adana three days and a half, to be purified, before proceed- 
ing further. Lately, the whole town was placed in quarantine 
for five days, because a Turkish Bey, who lives near Baias, 
entered the gates without being noticed, and was found in the 
bazaars. The Quarantine building was once a palace of the 
Pashas of Adana, but is now in a half-ruined condition. The 
rooms are large and airy, and there is a spacious open divan, 



230 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



which affords ample shade and a cool breeze throughout the 
whole day. Fortunately for us, there were only three persons 
in Quarantine, who occupied a room distant from ours. The 
Inspector was a very obliging person, and procured us a table 
and two chairs. The only table to be had in the whole place — 
a town of 15,000 inhabitants — belonged to an Italian merchant, 
who kindly gave it for our use. We employed a messenger to 
purchase provisions in the bazaars ; and our days passed 
quietly in writing, smoking, and gazing indolently from our 
windows upon the flowery plains beyond the town. Our nights, 
however, were tormented by small white gnats, which stung us 
unmercifully. The physician of Quarantine, Dr. Spagnolo, is a 
Venetian refugee, and formerly editor of La Lega Italiana, a 
paper published in Venice during the revolution. He informed 
us that, except the Princess Belgioioso, who passed through 
Adana on her way to Jerusalem, we were the only travellers 
he had seen for eleven months. 

After three days and four nights of grateful, because invo- 
luntary, indolence, Dr. Spagnolo gave us pratique, and we lost 
no time in getting under weigh again. We were the only 
occupants of Quarantine ; and as we moved out of the portal 
of the old serai, at sunrise, no one was guarding it. The 
Inspector and Mustapha, the messenger, took their back- 
sheeshes with silent gratitude. The plain on the west side of 
the town is well cultivated ; and as we rode along towards 
Tarsus, I was charmed with the rich pastoral air of the 
scenery. It was like one of the midland landscapes of Eng- 
land, bathed in Southern sunshine. The beautiful level, 
stretching away to the mountains, stood golden with the fields 
of wheat which the reapers were cutting. It was no longer 



THE ROAD TO TARSUS, 



231 



bare, but dotted with orange groves, clumps of holly, and a 
number of magnificent terebinth-trees, whose dark, rounded 
masses of foliage remind one of the Northern oak. Cattle 
were grazing in the stubble, and horses, almost buried under 
loads of fresh grass, met us as they passed to the city. The 
sheaves were drawn to the threshing-floor on sleds, and we 
could see the husbandmen in the distance treading out and 
winnowing the grain. Over these bright, busy scenes, rose 
the lesser heights of the Taurus, and beyond them, mingled in 
white clouds, the snows of the crowning range. 

The road to Tarsus, which is eight hours distant, lies over an 
unbroken plain. Towards the sea, there are two tumuli, resem- 
bling those on the plains east of Antioch. Stone wells, with 
troughs for watering horses, occur at intervals of three or four 
miles ; but there is little cultivation after leaving the vicinity 
of Adana. The sun poured down an intense summer heat, and 
hundreds of large gad-flies, swarming around us, drove the 
horses wild with their stings. Towards noon, we stopped 
at a little village for breakfast. We took possession of a 
shop, which the good-natured merchant offered us, and were 
about to spread our provisions upon the counter, when the 
gnats and mosquitoes fairly drove us away. We at once went 
forward in search of a better place, which gave occasion to our 
chief mukkairee, Hadji Youssuf, for a violent remonstrance. 
The terms of the agreement at Aleppo gave the entire control 
of the journey into our own hands, and the Hadji now sought 
to violate it. He protested against our travelling more than 
six hours a day, and conducted himself so insolently, that we 
threatened to take him before the Pasha of Tarsus. This 
silenced him for the time ; but we hate him so cordially since 



232 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACENT, 



then, that I foresee we shall have more trouble. In the after- 
noon, a gust, sweeping along the sides of Taurus, cooled the air 
and afforded us a little relief. 

By three o'clock we reached the River Cydnus, which is 
bare of trees on its eastern side, but flows between banks 
covered with grass and shrubs. It is still spanned by the 
ancient bridge, and the mules now step in the hollow ruts worn 
long ago by Roman and Byzantine chariot wheels. The stream 
is not more than thirty yards broad, but has a very full and 
rapid current of a bluish-white color, from the snows which feed 
it. I rode down to the brink and drank a cup of the water. 
It was exceedingly cold, and I do not wonder that a bath in it 
should have killed the Emperor Barbarossa. From the top of 
the bridge, there is a lovely view, down the stream, where it 
washes a fringe of willows and heavy fruit-trees on its western 
bank, and then winds away through the grassy plain, to the 
sea. For once, my fancy ran parallel with the inspiration of the 
scene. I could think of nothing but the galley of Cleopatra 
slowly stemming the current of the stream, its silken sails filled 
with the sea-breeze, its gilded oars keeping time to the flutes, 
whose voluptuous melodies floated far out over the vernal 
meadows. Tarsus was probably almost hidden then, as now, 
by its gardens, except just where it touched the river ; and the 
dazzling vision of the Egyptian Queen, as she came up con- 
quering and to conquer, must have been all the more bewilder- 
ing, from the lovely bowers through which she sailed. 

From the bridge an ancient road still leads to the old 
Byzantine gate of Tarsus. Part of the town is encompassed 
by a wall, built by cue ^-aiiph Haroun Al-Raschid, and there 
is a ruined fortress which is attributed to Sultan Bajazet 



TARSUS. 



233 



Small streams, brought from the Cydnus, traverse the environs, 
and, with such a fertile soil, the luxuriance of the gardens in 
which the city lies buried is almost incredible. In our rambles 
in search of a place to pitch the tent, we entered a superb 
orange-orchard, the foliage of which made a perpetual twilight. 
Many of the trunks were two feet in diameter. The houses 
are mostly of one story, and the materials are almost wholly 
borrowed from the ancient city. Pillars, capitals, fragments 
of cornices and entablatures abound. I noticed here, as in 
Adana, a high wooden frame on the top of every house, raised 
a few steps above the roof, and covered with light muslin, like 
a portable bathing-house. Here the people put up their beds 
in the evening, sleep, and come down to the roofs in the morn- 
ing — an excellent plan for getting better air in these malarious 
plains and escaping from fleas and mosquitoes. In our search 
for the Armenian Church, which is said to have been founded 
by St. Paul ("Saul of Tarsus we came upon a mosque, 
which had been originally a Christian Church, of Greek times. 

From the top of a mound, whereupon stand^ the remains of an 
ancient circular edifice, we obtained a fine view of the city and 
plain of Tarsus. A few houses or clusters of houses stood 
here and there like reefs amid the billowy green, and the mina- 
rets — one of them with a nest of young storks on its very 
summit — rose like the masts of sunken ships. Some palms 
lifted their tufted heads from the gardens, beyond which the 
great plain extended from the mountains to the sea. The 
tumulus near Mersyn, the port of Tarsus, was plainly visible. 
Two hours from Mersyn are the ruins of Pompeiopolis, the 
name given by Pompey to the town of Soli, after his conquest- 
of the Cilician pirates. From Soli, on account of the bad 



234 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Greek spoken by its inhabitants, came the term " solecism," 
The ruins of Pompeiopolis consist of a theatre, temples, and a 
number of houses, still in good preservation. The whole 
coast, &s far as Aleya, three hundred miles west of this, is said 
to abound with ruined cities, and I regret exceedingly that 
time will not permit me to explore it. 

"While searching for the antiquities about Tarsus, I accosted 
a man in a Frank dress, who proved to be the Neapolitan 
Consul. He told us that the most remarkable relic was the 
Dunihtash (the Round Stone), and procured us a guide. It 
lies in a garden near the city, and is certainly one of the most 
remarkable monuments in the East. It consists of a square 
inclosure of solid masonry, 350 feet long by 150 feet wide, the 
walls of which are eighteen feet in thickness and twenty feet 
high. It appears to have been originally a solid mass, without 
entrance, but a passage has been broken in one place, and in 
another there is a split or fissure, evidently produced by an 
earthquake. The material is rough stone, brick and mortar. 
Inside of the inclosure are two detached square masses of 
masonry, of equal height, and probably eighty feet on a side, 
without opening of any kind. One of them has been pierced 
at the bottom, a steep passage leading to a pit or well, but the 
sides of the passage thus broken indicate that the whole struc- 
ture is one solid mass. It is generally supposed that .they 
were intended as tombs : but of whom ? There is no sign by 
which they may be recognized, and, what is more singular, no 
tradition concerning them. 

The day we reached Tarsus was the first of the Turkish fast- 
month of Ramazan, the inhabitants having seen the new moon 
the night before. At Adana, where they did not keep such a 



THE MOON OF RASfAZAN. 



235 



close look-out, the fast had not commenced. During its con- 
tinuance, which is from twenty-eight to twenty-nine days, no 
Mussulman dares eat, drink, or smoke, from an hour before 
sunrise till half an hour after sunset. The Mohammedan 
months are lunar, and each month makes the whole round of 
the seasons, once in thirty-three years. When, therefore, the 
Ramazan comes in midsummer, as at present, the fulfilment of 
this fast is a great trial, even to the strongest and most devout. 
Eighteen hours without meat or drink, and what is still worse 
to a genuine Turk, without a pipe, is a rigid test of faith. 
The rich do the best they can to avoid it, by feasting all night 
and sleeping all day, but the poor, who must perform their 
daily avocations, as usual, suffer exceedingly. In walking 
through Tarsus I saw many wretched faces in the bazaars, and 
the guide who accompanied us had a painfully famished air. 
Fortunately the Koran expressly permits invalids, children, and 
travellers to disregard the fast, so that although we eat and 
drink when we like, we are none the less looked upon as good 
Mussulmans. About dark a gun is fired and a rocket sent up 
from the mosque, announcing the termination of the day's fast. 
The meals are already prepared, the pipes filled, the coffee 
smokes in the finjans, and the echoes have not died away nor 
the last sparks of the rocket become 4 extinct, before half the 
inhabitants are satisfying their hunger, thirst and smoke-lust. 

We left Tarsus this morning, and are now encamped among 
the pines of Mount Taurus. The last flush of sunset is fading 
from his eternal snows, and I drop my pen to enjoy the silence 
of twilight in this mountain solitude. 



236 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTEE XVIII. 

THE PASS OF MOUNT TAURUS. 

We enter the Taurus— Turcomans — Forest Scenery— the Palace of Pan— Khan Mezar- 
luk — Morning among the Mountains — The Gorge of the Cydnus— The Crag of the 
Fortress— The Cilician Gate— Deserted Forts— A Sublime Landscape— The Gorge of the 
Sihoon — The Second Gate — Camp in the J>enle— Sunrise — Journey up the Sihoon — A 
Change of Scenery— A Pastoral Valley— Kolii Kushla— A Deserted Khan— A Guest in 
Ramazan— F.owers— The Plain of Karamania— Barren Hills— The Town of Eregli - 
The Hadji again. 

" Lo ! where the pass expands 
Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, 
And seems, with its accumulated crags, 
To overhang the world." Shelley. 

Ep.egli, in Karamania, June 22, 1852. 

Striking our teiit in the gardens of Tarsus, we again crossed 
the Cydnus, and took a northern course across the plain. The 
long line of Taurus rose before us, seemingly divided into four 
successive ranges, the highest of which was folded in clouds ; 
only the long streaks of snow, filling the ravines, being visible. 
The outlines of these ranges were very fine, the waving line 
of the summits cut here and there by precipitous gorges — the 
gateways of rivers that came down to the plain. In about two 
hours, we entered the lower hills. They are barren and stony, 
with a white, chalky soil ; but the valleys were filled with 
myrtle, oleander, and lauristinus in bloom, and lavender grew 



THE OLEANDER— TURCOMANS. 



237 



in great profusion on the hill-sides. The flowers of the olean- 
der gave out a delicate, almond-like fragrance, and grew in 
such dense clusters as frequently to hide the foliage. I amused 
myself with finding a derivation of the name of this beautiful 
plant, which may answer until somebody discovers a better one. 
Hero, when the corpse of her lover was cast ashore by the 
waves, buried him under an oleander bush, where she was 
accustomed to sit daily, and lament over his untimely fate. 
Now, a foreign horticulturist, happening to pass by when the 
shrub was in blossom, was much struck with its beauty, and 
asked Hero what it was called. But she, absorbed in grief, 
and thinking only of her lover, clasped her hands, and sighed 
out: "0 Leander ! O Leander !" which the horticulturist 
immediately entered in his note-book as the name of the shrub ; 
and by that name it is known, to the present time. 

For two or three hours, the scenery was rather tame, the 
higher summits being obscured with a thunder-cloud. Towards 
noon, however, we passed the first chain, and saw, across a 
strip of rolling land intervening, the grand ramparts of the 
second, looming dark and large under the clouds. A circular 
watch-tower of white stone, standing on the summit of a pro- 
montory at the mouth of a gorge on our right, flashed out 
boldly against the storm. We stopped under an oak-tree to 
take breakfast ; but there was no water ; and two Turks, who 
were resting while their horses grazed in the meadow, told us 
we should find a good spring half a mile farther. We ascended 
a long slope, covered with wheat-fields, where numbers of Tur- 
coman reapers were busy at work, passed their black tents, 
surrounded with droves of sheep and goats, and reached a rude 
stone fountain of good water, where two companies of these 



23S 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



people had stopped to rest, on their way to the mountains. It 
was the time of noon prayer, and they went through their 
devotions with great solemnity. "We nestled deep in a bed of 
myrtles, while we breakfasted ; for the sky was clouded, and the 
wind blew cool and fresh from the region of rain above us. 
Some of the Turcomans asked us for bread, and were very 
grateful when we gave it to them. 

In the afternoon, we came into a higher and wilder region, 
where the road led through thickets of wild olive, holly, oak, 
and lauristinus, with occasional groves of pine. What a joy I 
felt in hearing, once more, the grand song of my favorite tree ! 
Our way was a woodland road ; a storm had passed over the 
region in the morning ; the earth was still fresh and moist, and 
there was an aromatic smell of leaves in the air. We turned 
westward into the entrance of a deep valley, over which hung 
a perpendicular cliff of gray and red rock, fashioned by nature 
so as to resemble a vast fortress, with windows, portals and 
projecting bastions. Francois displayed his knowledge of 
mythology, by declaring it to be the Palace of Pan. While 
we were carrying out the idea, by making chambers for the 
Fauns and Xymphs in the basement story of the precipice, the 
path wound around the shoulder of the mountain, and the glen 
spread away before us, branching up into loftier ranges, dis- 
closing through its gateway of cliffs, rising out of the steeps 
of pine forest, a sublime vista of blue mountain peaks, climb- 
ing to the topmost snows. It was a magnificent Alpine land- 
scape, more glowing and rich than Switzerland, yet equalling it 
in all the loftier characteristics of mountain scenery. Another 
and greater precipice towered over us on the right, and the 
black eagles which had made their eyries in its niched and 



KHAN MEZARLUK. 



239 



caverned vaults, were wheeling around its crest. A branch of 
the Cjdnus foamed along the bottom of the gorge, and some 
Turcoman boys were tending their herds on its banks. 

Further up the glen, we found a fountain of delicious water, 
beside the deserted Khan of Mezarluk, and there encamped 
for the night. Our tent was pitched on the mountain side, 
near a fountain of the coolest, clearest and sweetest water I 
have seen in all the East. There was perfect silence among 
the mountains, and the place was as lonely as it was sublime. 
The night was cool and fresh ; but I could not sleep until 
towards morning. When I opened my belated eyes, the tall 
peaks on the opposite side of the glen were girdled below their 
waists with the flood of a sparkling sunrise. The sky was 
pure as crystal, except a soft white fleece that veiled the snowy 
pinnacles of Taurus, folding and unfolding, rising and sinking, 
as if to make their beauty still more attractive by the partial 
concealment. The morning air was almost cold, but so pure 
and bracing — so aromatic with the healthy breath of the pines — 
that I took it down in the fullest possible draughts. 

We rode up the glen, following the course of the Cydnus, 
through scenery of the wildest and most romantic character. 
The bases of the mountains were completely enveloped in 
forests of pine, but their summits rose in precipitous crags, 
many hundreds of feet in height, hanging above our very heads. 
Even after the sun was five hours high, their shadows fell upon 
us from the opposite side of the glen. Mixed with the pine 
were occasional oaks, an undergrowth of hawthorn in bloom, 
and shrubs covered with yellow and white flowers. Over these 
the wild grape threw its rich festoons, filling the air with 
exquisite fragrance. 



2iQ 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Out of this glen, we passed into another, still narrower and 
wilder. The road was the old Roman way, and in tolerable 
condition, though it had evidently not been mended for many 
centuries. In half an hour, the pass opened, disclosing an 
enormous peak in front of us, crowned with the ruins of an 
ancient fortress of considerable extent. The position was 
almost impregnable, the mountain dropping on one side into a 
precipice five hundred feet in perpendicular height. Tinder 
the cliffs of the loftiest ridge, there was a terrace planted with 
walnut-trees : a charming little hamlet in the wilderness. TVild 
sycamore-trees, with white trunks and bright green foliage, 
shaded the foamy twists of the Cydnus, as it plunged down its 
difficult bed. The pine thrust its roots into the naked preci- 
pices, and from their summits hung out over the great abysses 
below. I thought of (Enone's 

" tall, dark pines, that fringed the craggy ledge 

High over the bine gorge, and all between 
The snowy peak and snow-white cataract 
Fostered the callow eaglet 

and certainly she had on Mount Ida no more beautiful trees 
than these. 

"We had doubled the Crag of the Fortress, when the pass 
closed before us, shut in by two immense precipices of ^heer, 
barren rock, more than a thousand feet in height. Yast frag- 
ments, fallen from above, choked up the entrance, whence the 
Cydnus, spouting forth in foam, leaped into the defile. The 
ancient road was completely destroyed, but traces of it were 
to be seen on the rocks, ten feet above the present bed of the 
stream, and on the broken masses which had been hurled below. 



THE CILICIAN GATS. 24 1 

The path wound with difficulty among these wrecks, and then 
merged into the stream itself, as we entered the gateway. A 
violent wind blew in our faces as we rode through the strait, 
which is not ten yards in breadth, while its walls rise to the 
region of the clouds. In a few minutes we had traversed it, 
and stood looking back on the enormous gap. There were 
several Greek tablets cut in the rock above the old road, but 
so defaced as to be illegible. This is undoubtedly the princi- 
pal gate of the Taurus, and the pass through which the armies 
of Cyrus and Alexander entered Cilicia. 

Beyond the gate the mountains retreated, and we climbed 
up a little dell, past two or three Turcoman houses, to the top 
of a hill, whence opened a view of the principal range, now 
close at hand. The mountains in front were clothed with dark 
cedars to their very tops, and the snow-fields behind them 
seemed dazzlingly bright and near. Our course for several 
miles now lay through a more open valley, drained by the 
upper waters of the Cydnus. On two opposing terraces of 
the mountain chains are two fortresses, built by Ibraham 
Pasha, but now wholly deserted. They are large and well- 
constructed works of stone, and surrounded by ruins of stables, 
ovens, and the rude houses of the soldiery. Passing between 
these, we ascended to the shelf dividing the waters of the 
Cydnus and the Sihoon. From the point where the slope 
descends to the latter river, there opened before me one of the 
most glorious landscapes I ever beheld. I stood at the 
extremity of a long hollow or depression between the two 
ranges of the Taurus — not a valley, for it was divided by deep 
cloven chasms, hemmed in by steeps overgrown with cedars. 
On my right rose a sublime chain, soaring far out of the region 

11 



212 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



of trees, and lifting its peaked summits of gray rock into the 
sky. Another chain, nearly as lofty, but not so broken, nor 
with such large, imposing features, overhung me on the left ; 
and far in front, filling up the "magnificent vista — filling up all 
between the lower steeps, crowned with pine, and the round 
white clouds hanging on the verge of heaven — were the shining 
snows of the Taurus. Great God, how shall I describe the 
grandeur of that view ! How draw the wonderful outlines of 
those mountains ! How paint the airy hue of violet-gray, the 
soft white lights, the thousandfold pencillings of mellow shadow, 
the height, the depth, the far-reaching vastness of the land- 
scape ! 

In the middle distance, a great blue gorge passed transversely 
across the two ranges and the region between. This, as I 
rightly conjectured, was the bed of the Sihoon. Our road led 
downward through groves of fragrant cedars, and we travelled 
thus for two hours before reaching the river. Taking a north- 
ward course up his banks, we reached the second of the Pylce 
CUicicB before sunset. It is on a grander scale than the first 
gate, though not so startling and violent in its features. The 
bare walls on either side fall sheer to the water, and the road, 
crossing the Sihoon by a lofty bridge of a single arch, is cut 
along the face of the rock. Xear the bridge a subterranean 
stream, almost as large as the river, bursts forth from the solid 
heart of the mountain. On either side gigantic masses of rock, 
with here and there a pine to adorn their sterility, tower to 
the height of 6,000 feet, in some places almost perpendicular 
from summit to base. They are worn and broken into all 
fantastic forms. There are pyramids, towers, bastions, mina- 
rets, and long, sharp spires, splintered and jagged as the tur- 



SUNRISE IN THE PASS, 



243 



rets of an iceberg. I have seen higher mountains, bit I have 
never seen any which looked so high as these, We camped on 
a narrow plot of ground, in the very heart of the tremendous 
gorge. A soldier, passing along at dusk, told us that a mer- 
chant and his servant were murdered in the same place last 
winter, and advised us to keep watch. But we slept safely all 
night, while the stars sparkled over the chasm, and slips of 
misty cloud hung low on the thousand pinnacles of rock 

When I awoke, the gorge lay in deep shadow ; but high up 
on the western mountain, above the enormous black pyramids 
that arose from the river, the topmost pinnacles of rock 
sparkled like molten silver, in the full gush of sunrise. The 
great mountain, blocking up the gorge behind us, was bathed 
almost to its foot in the rays, and, seen through such a dark 
vista, was glorified beyond all other mountains of Earth. The 
air was piercingly cold and keen, and I could scarcely bear the 
water of the Sihoon on my sun-inflamed face. There was a 
little spring not far off, from which we obtained sufficient water 
to drink, the river being too muddy. The spring was but a 
thread oozing from the soil ; but the Hadji collected it in hand- 
fuls, which he emptied into his water-skin, and then brought 
to us. 

The morning light gave a still finer effect to the manifold 
forms of the mountains than that of the afternoon sun. The 
soft gray hue of the rocks shone clearly against the cloudless 
sky, fretted all over with the shadows thrown by their innu- 
merable spires and jutting points, and by the natural arches 
scooped out under the cliffs. After travelling less than an 
hour, we passed the riven walls of the mighty gateway, and 
rode again under the shade of pine forests. The height of the 



244 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

mountains now gradually diminished, and their sides, covered 
with pine and cedar, became less broken and abrupt. The 
summits, nevertheless, still retained the same rocky spine, 
shooting up into tall, single towers, or long lines of even para- 
pets Occasionally, through gaps between, we caught glimpses 
of the snow-fields, dazzlingly high and white. 

After travelling eight or nine miles, we emerged from the 
pass, and left the Sihoon at a place called Chiftlik Khan — a 
stone building, with a small fort adjoining, wherein fifteen 
splendid bronze cannon lay neglected on their broken and rot- 
ting carriages. As we crossed the stone bridge over the river, 
a valley opened suddenly on the left, disclosing the whole range 
of the Taurus, which we now saw on its northern side, a vast 
stretch of rocky spires, with sparkling snow-fields between, and 
long ravines filled with snow, extending far down between the 
dark blue cliffs and the dark green plumage of the cedars. 

Immediately after passing the central chain of the Taurus, 
the character of the scenery changed. The heights were 
rounded, the rocky strata only appearing on the higher peaks, 
and the slopes of loose soil were deeply cut and scarred by the 
rains of ages. Both in appearance, especially in the scattered 
growth of trees dotted over the dark red soil, and in their for- 
mation, these mountains strongly resemble the middle ranges 
of the Californian Sierra Xevada. "We climbed a long, winding 
glen, until we had attained a considerable height, when the 
road reached a dividing ridge, giving us a view of a deep 
valley, beyond which a chain of barren mountains rose to the 
height of some five thousand feet. As we descended the rocky 
path, a little caravan of asses and mules clambered up to meet 
us, along the brinks of steep gulfs. The narrow strip of 



A PASTORAL VALLEY. 



245 



bottom land along the stream was planted with rye, now in 
head, and rolling in silvery waves before the wind. 

After our noonday halt, we went over the hills to another 
stream, which came from the north-west. Its valley was 
broader and greener than that we had left, and the hills inclos- 
ing it had soft and undulating outlines. They were bare of 
trees, but colored a pale green by their thin clothing of grass 
and herbs. In this valley the season was so late, owing to its 
height above the sea, that the early spring-flowers were yet 
in bloom. Poppies flamed among the wheat, and the banks of 
the stream were brilliant with patches of a creeping plant, 
with a bright purple blossom. The asphodel grew in great, 
profusion, and an ivy-leaved shrub, covered with flakes of white 
bloom, made the air faint with its fragrance. Still further up, 
we came to orchards of walnut and plum trees, and vineyards 
There were no houses, but the inhabitants, who were mostly 
Turcomans, live in villages during the winter, and in summer 
pitch their tents on the mountains where they pasture their 
flocks. Directly over this quiet pastoral vale towered the 
Taurus, and I looked at once on its secluded loveliness and on 
the wintry heights, whose bleak and sublime heads were 
mantled in clouds. From no point is there a more imposing 
view of the whole snowy range. Near the head of the valley 
we passed a large Turcoman encampment, surrounded with 
herds of sheep and cattle. 

We halted for the evening at a place called Kolii-Kushla — 
an immense fortress-village, resembling Ba'ias, and like it, 
wholly deserted. Near it there is a small town of very 
neat houses, which is also deserted, the inhabitants having 
gone into the mountains with their flocks. I walked through 



246 



THE LANDS OF TEE SARACEN. 



the fortress, which is a massive building of stone, about 500 
feet square, erected by Sultan Murad as a resting-place for the 
caravans to Mecca. It has two spacious portals, in which the 
iron doors are still hanging, connected by a vaulted passage, 
twenty feet high and forty wide, with bazaars on each side. 
Side gateways open into large courts, surrounded with arched 
chambers. There is a mosque entire, with its pulpit and 
galleries, and the gilded crescent still glittering over its dome. 
Behind it is a bath, containing an entrance hall and half a 
dozen chambers, in which the water-pipes and stone tanks still 
remain. With a little alteration, the building would make a 
capital Phalanstery, where the Fourierites might try their 
experiment without contact with Society. There is no field 
for them equal to Asia Minor — a glorious region, abounding in 
natural wealth, almost depopulated, and containing a great 
number of Phalansteries ready built. 

We succeeded in getting some eggs, fowls, and milk from an 
old Turcoman who had charge of the village. A man who 
rode by on a donkey sold us a bag of yaourt (sour milk-curds), 
which was delicious, notwithstanding the suspicious appearance 
of the bag. It was made before the cream had been removed, 
and was very rich and nourishing. The old Turcoman sat 
down and watched us while we ate, but would not join us, as 
these wandering tribes are very strict in keeping Ramazan. 
When we had reached our dessert — a plate of tine cherries — 
another white-bearded and dignified gentleman visited us. We 
handed him the cherries, expecting that he would take a few 
and politely return the dish : but no such thing. He coolly 
produced his handkerchief, emptied everything into it, and 
marched off. He also did - not venture to eat, although we 



THE PLAIN OF KARAMANIA. 



24t 



pointed to the Taurus, on whose upper snows the last gleam of 
daylight was just melting away. 

We arose this morning in a dark, cloudy dawn. There was 
a heavy black storm hanging low in the west, and another was 
gathering its forces along the mountains behind us. A cold 
wind blew down the valley, and long peals of thunder rolled 
gracdly among the gorges of Taurus. An isolated hill, 
crowded with a shattered crag which bore a striking resem- 
blance to a ruined fortress, stood out black and sharp against 
the far, misty, sunlit peaks. As far as the springs were yet 
undried, the land was covered with flowers. In one place I 
saw a large square plot of the most brilliant crimson hue, 
burning amid the green wheat-fields, as if some Tyrian mantle 
had been flung there. The long, harmonious slopes and 
rounded summits of the hills were covered with drifts of a 
beautiful purple clover, and a diminutive variety of the achillea, 
or yarrow, with glowing yellow blossoms. The leaves had a 
pleasant aromatic odor, and filled the air with their refreshing 
breath, as they were crushed under the hoofs of our horses. 

We had now reached the highest ridge of the hilly country 
along the northern base of Taurus, and saw, far and wide 
before us, the great central plain of Karamania. Two isolated 
mountains, at forty or fifty miles distance, broke the monotony 
of the desert-like level : Kara Dagh in the west, and the snow- 
capped summits of Hassan Dagh in the north-east. Beyond 
the latter, we tried to catch a glimpse of the famous Mons 
Argseus, at the base of which is Kaisariyeh, the ancient Caesarea 
of Cappadocia. This mountain, which is 13,000 feet high, is 
the loftiest peak of Asia Minor. The clouds hung low on the 
horizon, and the rains were falling, veiling it from our sight. 



248 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



Our road, for the remainder of the day, was over barren 
hills, covered with scanty herbage. The sun shone out intense- 
ly hot, and the glare of the white soil was exceedingly painful 
to nay eyes. The locality of Eregli was betrayed, some time 
before we reached it, by its dark-green belt of fruit trees. It 
stands in the mouth of a narrow valley which winds down 
from the Taurus, and is watered by a large rapid stream that 
finally loses itself in the lakes and morasses of the plain. 
There had been a heavy black thunder-cloud gathering, and as 
we reached our camping-ground, under some fine walnut-trees 
near the stream, a sudden blast of cold wind swept over the 
town, filling the air with dust. We pitched the tent in all 
haste, expecting a storm, but the rain finally passed to 
the northward. We then took a walk through the town, 
which is a forlorn place. A spacious khan, built apparently 
for the Mecca pilgrims, is in ruins, but the mosque has an 
exquisite minaret, eighty feet high, and still bearing traces of 
the devices, in blue tiles, which once covered it. The shops 
were mostly closed, and in those which were still open the 
owners lay at full length on their bellies, their faces gaunt 
with fasting. They seemed annoyed at our troubling them, 
even with purchases. One would have thought that some 
fearful pestilence had fallen upon the town. The cobblers 
only, who somewhat languidly plied their implements, seemed 
to retain a little life. The few J ews and Armenians smoked 
their pipes in a tantalizing manner, in the very faces of the 
poor Mussulmans. We bought an oka of excellent cherries, 
which we were cruel enough to taste in the streets, before the 
hungry eyes of the suffering merchants. 

This evening the asses belonging to the place were driven in 



A DERVISH. 



249 



from pasture — four or five hundred in all ; and such a show of 
curious asinine specimens as I never before beheld. A Dervish, 
who was with us in Quarantine, at Adana, has just arrived. He 
had lost his teskere (passport), and on issuing forth purified, 
was cast into prison. Finally he found some one who knew 
him, and procured his release. He had come on foot to this 
place in five days, suffering many privations, having been forty- 
eight hours without food. He is bound to Konia, on a pil- 
grimage to the tomb of Hazret Mevlana, the founder of the 
sect of dancing Dervishes. We gave him food, in return for 
which he taught me the formula of his prayers. He tells me I 
should always pronounce the name of Allah when my horse 
stumbles, or I see a man in danger of his life, as the word has 
a saving power. Hadji Youssuf, who has just been begging 
for an advance of twenty piastres to buy grain for his horses, 
swore "by the pardon of God" that he would sell the lame 
horse at Konia and get a better one. We have lost all confi- 
dence in the old villain's promises, but the poor beasts shall 
not suffer for his delinquencies. 

Our tent is in a charming spot, and, from without, makes a 
picture to be remembered. The yellow illumination from 
within strikes on the under sides of the walnut boughs, while 
the moonlight silvers them from above. Beyond gardens 
where the nightingales are singing, the tall minaret of Eregli 
stands revealed in the vapory glow. The night is too sweet 
and balmy for sleep, and yet I must close my eyes upon it, for 
the hot plains of Karamania await us to-morrow. 



11* 



250 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE PLAINS OF KARAMANIA. 

The Plains of Karamania — Afternoon Heat — A Well — Volcanic Phenomena — Kara* 
bounar — A Grand Ruined Khan— Moonlight Picture — A Landscape of the Plains- 
Mirages — A Short Interview — The Village of Ism.il — Third Day on the Plains- 
Approach to Konia. 

"Aweary waste, expanding to the skies." — GrOLDSiHTH. 

Konia, Capital of Karamania, Friday, June 25, 1854. 

Francois awoke us at the break of day, at Eregli, as we 
had a journey of twelve hours before us. Passing through the 
town, we traversed a narrow belt of garden and orchard land, 
and entered the great plain of Karamania. Our road led at 
first northward towards a range called Karadja Dagh, and 
then skirted its base westward. After three hours' travel we 
passed a village of neat, whitewashed houses, which were 
entirely deserted, all the inhabitants having gone off to the 
mountains. There were some herds scattered over the plain, 
near the village. As the day wore on, the wind, which had 
been chill in the morning, ceased, and the air became hot and 
sultry. The glare from the white soil was so painful that I 
was obliged to close my eyes, and so ran a continual risk of 
falling asleep and tumbling from my horse. Thus, drowsy and 
half unconscious of my whereabouts, I rode on in the heat and 



VOLCANIC PHENOMENA. 



251 



arid silence of the plain until noon, when we reached a well 
It was a shaft, snnk about thirty feet deep, with a long, slop- 
ing gallery slanting off to the surface. The well was nearly 
dry, but by descending the gallery we obtained a sufficient 
supply of cold, pure water. We breakfasted in the shaded 
doorway, sharing our provisions with a Turcoman boy, who 
was accompanying his father to Eregli with a load of salt. 

Our road now crossed a long, barren pass, between two 
parts of Karadja Dagh. Near the northern side there was a 
salt lake of one hundred yards in diameter, sunk in a deep 
natural basin. The water was intensely saline. On the other 
side of the road, and a quarter of a mile distant, is an extinct 
volcano, the crater of which, near two hundred feet deep, is a 
salt lake, with a trachytic cone three hundred feet high rising 
from the centre. From the slope of the mountain we over- 
looked another and somewhat deeper plain, extending to the 
north and west. It was bounded by broken peaks, all of 
which betrayed a volcanic origin. Far before us we saw the 
tower on the hill of Kara-bounar, our resting-place for the 
night. The road thither was over a barren "plain, cheered here 
and there by patches of a cushion-like plant, which was covered 
with pink blossoms. Mr. Harrison scared up some coveys of 
the frankolin, a large bird resembling the pheasant, and 
enriched our larder with a dozen starlings. 

Kara-bounar is built on the slope of a mound, at the foot of 
which stands a spacious mosque, visible far over the plain. It 
has a dome, and two tall, pencil-like towers, similar to those of 
the Citadel-mosque of Cairo. Near it are the remains of a 
magnificent khan-fortress, said to have been built by the eunuch 
of one of the former Sultans. As there was no water in the 



252 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



wells outside of the town, we entered the khan and pitched the 
tent in its grass-grown court. Six square pillars of hewn stone 
made an aisle to our door, and the lofty, roofless walls of the 
court, 100 by 150 feet, inclosed us. Another court, of similar 
size, communicated with it by a broad portal, and the remains 
of baths and bazaars lay beyond. A handsome stone fountain, 
with two streams of running water, stood in front of the khan. 
We were royally lodged, but almost starved in our splendor, 
as only two or three Turcomans remained out of two thousand 
(who had gone off with their herds to the mountains), and they 
were unable to furnish us with provisions. But for our franko- 
lins and starlings we should have gone fasting. 

The mosque was a beautiful structure of white limestone, 
and the galleries of its minarets were adorned with rich ara- 
besque ornaments. While the muezzin was crying his sunset- 
call to prayer, I entered the portico and looked into the inte- 
rior, which was so bare as to appear incomplete. As we sat 
in our palace-court, after dinner, the moon arose, lighting up 
the niches in the walls, the clusters of windows in the immense 
eastern gable, and the rows of massive columns. The large 
dimensions of the building gave it a truly grand effect, and but 
for the whine of a distant jackal I could have believed that we 
were sitting in the aisles of a roofless Gothic cathedral, in the 
heart of Europe. Erancois was somewhat fearful of thieves, 
but the peace and repose of the place were so perfect that I 
would not allow any such apprehensions to disturb me. In. 
two minutes after I touched my bed I was insensible, and I did 
not move a limb until sunrise. 

Beyond Kara-bounar, there is a low, barren ridge, climbing 
which, we overlooked an immense plain, uncultivated, appa 



MIRAGES. 



253 



rently unfertile, and without a sign of life as far as the eye 
could reach. Kara Dagh, in the south, lifted nearer us its cluster 
of dark summits ; to the north, the long ridge of XJsedjik Dagh 
(the Pigmy Mountain) stretched like a cape into the plain ; 
Hassan Dagh, wrapped in a soft white cloud, receded behind 
us, and the snows of Taurus seemed almost as distant as when 
we first beheld them from the Syrian Gates. We rode for four 
hours over the dead level, the only objects that met our eyes 
being an occasional herd of camels in the distance. About 
noon, we reached a well, similar to that of the previous day, 
but of recent construction. A long, steep gallery led down to 
the water, which was very cold, but had a villainous taste of 
lime, salt, and sulphur. 

After an hour's halt, we started again. The sun was 
intensely hot, and for hours we jogged on over the dead level, 
the bare white soil blinding our eyes with its glare. The dis- 
tant hills were lifted above the horizon by a mirage. Long 
sheets of blue water were spread along their bases, islanding 
the isolated peaks, and turning into ships and boats the black 
specks of camels far away. But the phenomena were by no 
means on so grand a scale as I had seen in the Nubian Desert. 
On the south-western horizon, we discerned the summits of the 
Karaman range of Taurus, covered with snow. In the middle 
of the afternoon, we saw a solitary tent upon the plain, from 
which an individual advanced to meet us. As he drew nearer, 
we noticed that he wore white Frank pantaloons, similar to the 
Turkish soldiery, with a jacket of brown cloth, and a heavy 
sabre. When he was within convenient speaking distance, he 
cried out : " Stop ! why are you running away from me V } 
il What do you call running away V 7 rejoined Francois ; "we 



254 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



are going on our journey." " Where do you corne from ?" he 
then asked. " From there," said Francois, pointing behind us. 
" Where are you going V " There V and the provoking Greek 
simply pointed forwards. " You have neither faith nor reli- 
gion l n said the man, indignantly ; then, turning upon his heel, 
he strode back across the plain. 

About four o'clock, we saw a long line of objects rising 
before us, but so distorted by the mirage that it was impossible 
to know what they were. After a while, however, we decided 
that they were houses interspersed with trees ; but the trees 
proved to be stacks of hay and lentils, heaped on the flat roofs. 
This was Ismil, our halting-place. The houses were miserable 
mud huts ; but the village was large, and, unlike most of those 
we have seen this side of Taurus, inhabited. The people are 
Turcomans, and their possessions appear to be almost entirely 
in their herds. Immense numbers of sheep and goats were 
pasturing on the plain. There were several wells in the place, 
provided with buckets attached to long swing-poles ; the water 
was very cold, but brackish. Our tent was pitched on the 
plain, on a hard, gravelly strip of soil. A crowd of wild-haired 
Turcoman boys gathered in front, to stare at us, and the shep- 
herds quarrelled at the wells, as to which should take his turn 
at watering his flocks. In the evening a handsome old Turk 
visited us, and, finding that we were bound to Constantinople, 
requested Francois to take a letter to his son, who was settled 
there. 

Francois aroused us this morning before the dawn, as we 
had a journey of thirty-five miles before us. He was in a bad 
humor ; for a man, whom he had requested to keep watch over 
his tent, while he went into the village, had stolen a fork and 



APPROACH TO KONIA. 



255 



spoon. The old Turk, who had returned as soon as we were 
stirring, went out to hunt the thief, but did not succeed in 
finding him. The inhabitants of the village were up long 
before sunrise, and driving away in their wooden-wheeled carts 
to the meadows where they cut grass. The old Turk accom- 
panied us some distance, in order to show us a nearer way, 
avoiding a marshy spot. Our road lay over a vast plain, seem- 
ingly boundless, for the lofty mountain-ranges that surrounded 
it on all sides were so distant and cloud-like, and so lifted from 
the horizon by the deceptive mirage, that the eye did not 
recognize their connection with it. The wind blew strongly 
from the north-west, and was so cold that I dismounted and 
walked ahead for two or three hours. 

Before noon, we passed two villages of mud huts, partly 
inhabited, and with some wheat-fields around them. We 
breakfasted at another well, which furnished us with a drink 
that tasted like iced sea-water. Thence we rode forth again 
into the heat, for the wind had fallen by this time, and the sun 
shone out with great force. There was ever the same dead 
level, and we rode directly towards the mountains, which, to 
my eyes, seemed nearly as distant as ever. At last, there was 
a dark glimmer through the mirage, at their base, and a half- 
hour's ride showed it to be a line of trees. In another hour, 
we could distinguish a minaret or two, and finally, walls and 
the stately domes of mosques. This was Konia, the ancient 
Iconium, one of the most renowned cities of Asia Minor. 



256 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



CHAPTER XX. 

SCENES IN KONIA. 

Approach to Konia — Tomb of Hazret Mevlana — Lodgings in a Khan — An American 
Luxury — A Night-Scene in Ramazan — Prayers in the Mosque — Remains of the 
Ancient City — "View from the Mosque — The Interior — A Leaning Minaret — The 
Diverting History of the Muleteers. 

" But they shook off the dust of their feet, and came unto Iconium." — Acts, xra. 51. 

Konia (Ancient Iconium), June 27, 1852. 

The view of Konia from the plain is not striking until one has 
approached within a mile of the suburbs, when the group of 
mosques, with their heavy central domes lifted on clusters of 
smaller ones, and their tall, light, glittering minarets, rising 
above the foliage of the gardens, against the background of 
airy hills, has a very pleasing effect. We approached through 
a long line of dirty suburbs, which looked still more forlorn on 
account of the Ramazan. Some Turkish officials, in shabby 
Frank dresses, followed us to satisfy their curiosity by talking 
with our Katurjees, or muleteers. Outside the city walls, we 
passed some very large barracks for cavalry, built by Ibrahim 
Pasha. On the plain north-east of the city, the battle between 
him and the forces of the Sultan, resulting in the defeat of the 
latter, was fought. 

We next came upon two magnificent mosques, built of white 



THE TOMB OF HAZRET MEVLANA. 



251 



limestone, with a multitude of leaden domes and lofty minarets, 
adorned with galleries rich in arabesque ornaments. Attached 
to one of them is the tomb of Hazret Mevlana, the founder of 
the sect of Mevlevi Dervishes, which is reputed one of the 
most sacred places in the East. The tomb is surmounted by a 
dome, upon which stands a tall cylindrical tower, reeded, with 
channels between each projection, and terminating in a long, 
tapering cone. This tower is made of glazed tiles, of the most 
brilliant sea-blue color, and sparkles in the sun like a vast pillar 
of icy spar in some Polar grotto. It is a most striking and 
fantastic object, surrounded by a cluster of minarets and several 
cypress-trees, amid which it seems placed as the central orna- 
ment and crown of the group. 

The aspect of the city was so filthy and uninviting that we 
preferred pitching our tent ; but it was impossible to find a 
place without going back upon the plain ; so we turned into 
the bazaar, and asked the way to a khan. There was a toler- 
able crowd in the street, although many of the shops were shut. 
The first khan we visited was too filthy to enter ; but the 
second, though most unpromising in appearance, turned out to 
be better than it looked. The oda-bashi (master of the rooms) 
thoroughly swept and sprinkled the narrow little chamber he 
gave us, laid clean mats upon the floor, and, when our carpets 
and beds were placed within, its walls of mud looked somewhat 
comfortable. Its single window, with an iron grating in lieu of 
glass, looked upon an oblong court, on the second story, sur- 
rounded by the rooms of Armenian merchants. The main 
court (the gate of which is always closed at sunset) is two 
stories in height, with a rough wooden balcony running around 
it, and a well of muddy water in the centre. 



258 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEV. 



The oda-bashi lent us a Turkish table and supplied us with 
dinner from his own kitchen; kibabs, stewed beans, and cucum- 
ber salad. Mr. H. and I, forgetting the Ramazan, went out 
to hunt for an iced sherbet; but all the coffee-shops were closed 
until sunset. The people stared at our Egyptian costumes, 
and a fellow in official dress demanded my teskere. Soon after 
we returned, Francois appeared with a splendid lump of ice in 
a basin and some lemons. The ice, so the khangee said, is 
taken from a lake among the mountains, which in winter 
freezes to the thickness of a foot. Behind the lake is a natural 
cavern, which the people fill with ice, and then close up. At 
this season they take it out, day by day, and bring it down to 
the city. It is very pure and thick, and justifies the Turkish 
proverb in regard to Kouia, which is celebrated for three 
excellent things : " dooz, booz, kuz " — salt, ice, and girls. 

Soon after sunset, a cannon announced the close of the fast. 
We waited an hour or two longer, to allow the people time to 
eat, and then sallied out into the streets. Every minaret in 
the city blazed with a crown of lighted lamps around its upper 
gallery, while the long shafts below, and the tapering cones 
above, topped with brazen crescents, shone fair in the moon- 
light. It was a strange, brilliant spectacle. In the square 
before the principal mosque we found a crowd of persons 
frolicking around the fountain, in the light of a number of 
torches on poles planted in the ground. Mats were spread on 
the stones, and rows of Turks of all classes sat thereon, smok- 
ing their pipes. Large earthen water-jars stood here and there, 
and the people drank so often and so long that they seemed 
determined to provide against the morrow. The boys were 
having their amusement in wrestling, shouting and firing off 



A NIGHT-SCENE IN RAMAZAN. 



259 



squibs, which they threw into the crowd. We kicked off our 
slippers, sat down among the Turks, smoked a narghileh, 
drank a cup of coffee and an iced sherbet of raisin juice, and so 
enjoyed the Hamazan as well as the best of them. 

Numbers of True Believers were drinking and washing them- 
selves at the picturesque fountain, and just as we rose to 
depart, the voice of a boy-muezzin, on one of the tallest mina- 
rets, sent down a musical call to prayer. Immediately the boys 
left off their sports and started on a run for the great mosque, 
and the grave, gray-bearded Turks got up from the mats, 
shoved on their slippers, and marched after them. We fol- 
lowed, getting a glimpse of the illuminated interior of the 
building, as we passed; but the oda-bashi conducted us still 
further, to a smaller though more beautiful mosque, surrounded 
with a garden-court. It was a truly magical picture. We 
entered the gate, and passed on by a marble pavement, under 
trees and arbors of vines that almost shut out the moonlight, 
to a paved space, in the centre whereof was a beautiful foun- 
tain, in the purest Saracenic style. Its heavy, projecting cor- 
nices and tall pyramidal roof rested on a circle of elegant 
arches, surrounding a marble structure, whence the water 
gushed forth in a dozen sparkling streams. On three sides it 
was inclosed by the moonlit trees and arbors ; on the fourth 
by the outer corridor of the mosque, the door of entrance being 
exactly opposite. 

Large numbers of persons were washing their hands and feet 
at the fountain, after which they entered and knelt on the 
floor. We stood unobserved in the corridor, and looked in on 
the splendidly illuminated interior and the crowd at prayer, all 
bending their bodies to the earth at regular intervals and mur- 



260 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



muring the name of Allah. They resembled a plain of reeds 
bending before the gusts of wind which precede a storm. 
When all had entered and were united in solemn prayer, we 
returned, passing the grand mosque. I stole up to the door, 
lifted the heavy carpet that hung before it, and looked in. 
There was a Mevlevi Dervish standing in the entrance, but his 
eyes were lifted in heavenly abstraction, and he did not see me. 
The interior was brilliantly lit by white and colored lamps, 
suspended from the walls and the great central dome. It was 
an imposing structure, simple in form, yet grand from its 
dimensions. The floor was covered with kneeling figures, and 
a deep voice, coming from the other end of the mosque, was 
uttering pious phrases in a kind of chant, I satisfied my curi- 
osity quickly, and we then returned to the khan. 

Yesterday afternoon I made a more thorough examination 
of the city. Passing through the bazaars, I reached the Serai, 
or Pasha's Palace, which stands on the site of that of the Sul- 
tans of Ioonium. It is a long, wooden building, with no pre- 
tensions to architectural beauty. Xear it there is a large and 
ancient mosque, with a minaret of singular elegance. It is 
about 120 feet high, with two hanging galleries; the whole 
built of blue and red bricks, the latter projecting so as to 
form quaint patterns or designs. Several ancient buildings 
near this mosque are surmounted with pyramidal towers, 
resembling Pagodas of India, Following the long, crooked 
lanes between mud buildings, we passed these curious struc- 
tures and reached the ancient wall of the city. In one 
of the streets lay a marble lion, badly executed, and appa- 
rently of the time of the Lower Empire. In the wall were 
inserted many similar figures, with fragments of friezes and 



VIEW FROM THE MOSQUE, 



261 



cornices. This is the work of the Seljook Kings, who, in build- 
ing the wall, took great pains to exhibit the fragments of the 
ancient city. The number of altars they have preserved is 
quite remarkable. On the square towers are sunken tablets, 
containing long Arabic inscriptions. 

The high walls of a ruined building in the southern part of 
the city attracted us, and on going thither we found it to be 
an ancient mosque, standing on an eminence formed apparently 
of the debris of other buildings. Part of the wall was also 
ancient, and in some places showed the marks of an earth- 
quake. A long flight of steps led up to the door of the 
mosque, and as we ascended we were rewarded by the most 
charming view of the city and the grand plain. Konia lay at 
our feet — a wide, straggling array of low mud dwellings, 
dotted all over with patches of garden verdure, while its three 
superb mosques, with the many smaller tombs and places of 
worship, appeared like buildings left from some former and 
more magnificent capital. Outside of this circle ran a belt of 
garden land, adorned with groves and long lines of fruit trees ; 
still further, the plain, a sea of faded green, flecked with the 
softest cloud-shadows, and beyond all, the beautiful outlines 
and dreamy tints of the different mountain chains. It was in 
every respect a lovely landscape, and the city is unworthy 
such surroundings. The sky, which in this region is of a pale, 
soft, delicious blue, was dotted with scattered fleeces of white 
clouds, and there was an exquisite play of light and shade over 
the hills. 

There were half a dozen men and boys about the door, 
amusing themselves with bursting percussion caps on the 
stone. They addressed us as "hadji!" (pilgrims), begging 



262 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



for more caps. I told them I was not a Turk, but an Arab, 
which they believed at once, and requested me to enter the 
mosque. The interior had a remarkably fine effect. It was a 
maze of arches, supported by columns of polished black mar- 
ble, forty in number. In form it was nearly square, and 
covered with a fiat, wooden roof. The floor was covered with 
a carpet, whereon several persons were lying at full length, 
while an old man, seated in one of the most remote corners, 
was reading in a loud, solemn voice. It is a peculiar struc- 
ture, which I should be glad to examine more in detail. 

Not far from this eminence is a remarkable leaning minaret, 
more than a hundred feet in height, while in diameter it can- 
not be more than fifteen feet. In design it is light and ele- 
gant, and the effect is not injured by its deviation from the 
perpendicular, which I should judge to be about six feet. 
From the mosque we walked over the mounds of old Iconium 
to the eastern wall, passing another mosque, wholly in ruin, 
but which must have once been more splendid than any now 
standing. The portal is the richest specimen of Saracenic 
sculpture I have ever seen ■ a very labyrinth of intricate orna- 
ments. The artist must have seen the great portal of the 
Temple of the Sun at Baalbec. The minarets have tumbled 
down, the roof has fallen in, but the walls are still covered 
with white and blue tiles, of the finest workmanship, resembling 
a mosaic of ivory and lapis lazuli. Some of the chambers 
seem to be inhabited, for two old men with white beards lay 
in the shade, and were not a little startled by our sudden 
appearance. 

We returned to the great mosque, which we had visited on the 
evening of our arrival, and listened for some time to the voice 



THE MULETEERS, 



263 



of a mollah who was preaching an afternoon sermon to a small 
and hungry congregation. W e then entered the court before 
the tomb of Hazret Mevlana. It was apparently forbidden 
ground to Christians, but as the Dervishes did not seem to sus- 
pect us we walked about boldly, and were about to enter, when 
an indiscretion of my companion frustrated our plans. For- 
getting his assumed character, he went to the fountain and 
drank, although it was no later than the asser, or afternoon 
prayer. The Dervishes were shocked and scandalized by this 
violation of the fast, in the very court-yard of their holiest 
mosque, and we judged it best to retire by degrees. We sent 
this morning to request an interview with the Pasha, but he 
had gone to pass the day in a country palace, about three 
hours distant. It is a still, hot, bright afternoon, and the 
silence of the famished populace disposes us to repose. Our 
view is bounded by the mud walls of the khan, and I already 
long for the freedom of the great Karamanian Plain. Here, 
in the heart of Asia Minor, all life seems to stagnate. There 
is sleep everywhere, and I feel that a wide barrier separates 
me from the living world. 

We have been detained here a whole day, through a chain 
of accidents, all resulting from the rascality of our muleteers 
on leaving Aleppo. The lame horse they palmed upon us was 
unable to go further, so we obliged them to buy another ani- 
mal, which they succeeded in getting for 350 piastres. We 
advanced the money, although they were still in our debt, 
hoping to work our way through with the new horse, and thus 
avoid the risk of loss or delay. But this morning at sunrise 
Hadji Youssuf comes with a woeful face to say that the new 
horse has been stolen in the night, and we, who are ready to 



264 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



start, must sit down and wait till he is recovered. I suspected 
another trick, but when, after the lapse of three hours, Fran- 
cois found the hadji sitting on the ground, weeping, and Achniet 
beating his breast, it seemed probable that the story was true. 
All search for the horse being vain, Francois went with them 
to the shekh of the horses, who promised, in case it should 
hereafter be found, to place it in the general pen, where they 
would be sure to get it on their return. The man who sold 
them the horse offered them another for the lame one and 150 
piastres, and there was no other alternative but to accept it. 
But we must advance the 150 piastres, and so, in mid-journey, 
we have already paid them to the end, with the risk of their 
horses breaking down, or they, horses and all, absconding from 
us. But the knavish varlets are hardly bold enough for such 
a climax of villany. 



SCENERY OF THE HILLS. 



265 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE HEART OF ASIA MINOR, 

Scenery of the Hills — Ladik, the Ancient Laodicea — The Plague of 6 ad-Flies — Camp at 
rigun— A Natural Warm Bath— The Gad-Flies Again— A Summer Landscape— Ak- 
Sheher— The Base of Sultan Dagh— The Fountain of Midas— A Drowsy Journey— 
The Town of Bolawadun. 

"By the forests, lakes, and fountains, 
Though the many-folded mountains." Shelley. 

Bolawadun, My 1, 1852. 

Our men brought all the beasts into the court-yard of the 
khan at Konia, the evening before our departure, so that no 
more were stolen during the night. The oda-bashi, indefatiga- 
ble to the last in his attention to us, not only helped load 
the mules, but accompanied us some distance on our way. All 
the merchants in the khan collected in the gallery to see us 
start, and we made our exit in some state. The morning was 
clear, fresh, and delightful. Turning away from the city walls, 
we soon emerged from the lines of fruit-trees and interminable 
fields of tomb-stones, and came out upon the great bare plain 
of Karamania. A ride of three hours brought us to a long, 
sloping hill, which gave us a view of the whole plain, and its 
circuit of mountains. A dark line in the distance marked the 
gardens of Konia. On the right, near the centre of the plain, 

12 



266 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the lake, now contracted to very narrow limits, glimmered in 
the sun. Notwithstanding the waste and unfertile appearance 
of the country, the soft, sweet sky that hangs over it, the 
pure, transparent air, the grand sweep of the plain, and the 
varied forms of the different mountain chains that encompass 
it, make our journey an inspiring one. A descent of the hills 
soon shut out the view ; and the rest of the day's journey lay 
among them, skirting the eastern base of Allah Dagh. 

The country improved in character, as we advanced. The 
bottoms of the dry glens were covered with wheat, and shrub- 
bery began to make its appearance on the mountain-sides In 
the afternoon, we crossed a watershed, dividing Karamania 
from the great central plain of Asia Minor, and descended to a 
village called Ladik, occupying the site of the ancient Laodi- 
cea, at the foot of Allah Dagh. The plain upon which we came 
was greener and more nourishing than that we had left. Trees 
were scattered here and there in clumps, and the grassy wastes, 
stretching beyond the grain-fields, were dotted with herds of 
cattle. Emir Dagh stood in the north-west, blue and distant r 
while, towards the north and north-east, the plain extended to 
the horizon — a horizon fifty miles distant — without a break. 
In that direction lay the great salt lake of Yiizler, and the 
strings of camels we met on the road, laden with salt, were 
returning from it. Ladik is surrounded with poppy-fields, bril- 
liant with wnite and purple blossoms. When the petals have 
fallen, the natives go carefully over the whole field and make 
incisions in every stalk, whence the opium exudes. 

We pitched our tent under a large walnut tree, which we 
found standing in a deserted inclosure. The graveyard of the 
village is studded with relics of the ancient town, There are 



THE ANCIENT LA0DICEA. 



267 



pillars, cornices, entablatures, jambs, altars, mullions and 
sculptured tablets, all of white marble, and many of them in 
an excellent state of preservation. They appear to date from 
the early time of the Lower Empire, and the cross has not yet 
been effaced from some which serve as head-stones for the True 
Believers. I was particularly struck with the abundance of 
altars, some of which contained entire and legible inscriptions. 
In the town there is the same abundance of ruins. The lid 
of a sarcophagus, formed of a single block of marble, now 
serves as a water-trough, and the fountain is constructed of 
ancient tablets. The town stands on a mound which appears 
to be composed entirely of the debris of the former place, and 
near the summit there are many holes which the inhabitants 
have dug in their search for rings, seals and other relics. 

The next day we made a journey of nine hours over a hilly 
country lying between the ranges of Allah Dagh and Emir 
Dagh. There were wells of excellent water along the road, at 
intervals of an hour or two. The day was excessively hot and 
sultry during the noon hours, and the flies were so bad as to 
give great inconvenience to our horses. The animal I bestrode 
kicked so incessantly that I could scarcely keep my seat. His 
belly was swollen and covered with clotted blood, from their 
bites. The hadji's mule began to show symptoms of illness, 
and we had great difficulty in keeping it on its legs. Mr. 
Harrison bled it in the mouth, as a last resource, and during 
the afternoon it partly recovered. 

An hour before sunset we reached Ilgun, a town on the 
plain, at the foot of one of the spurs of Emir Dagh. To the 
west of it there is a lake of considerable size, which receives 
the streams that flow through the town and water its fertile 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



gardens. We passed through the town and pitched our tent 
upon a beautiful grassy meadow. Our customary pipe of 
refreshment was never moie heartily enjoyed than at this place. 
Behind us was a barren hill, at the foot of which was a natural 
hot bath, wherein a number of women and children were 
amusing themselves. The afternoon heat had passed away, the 
air was calm, sweet, and tempered with the freshness of coming 
evening, and the long shadows of the hills, creeping over the 
meadows, had almost reached the town. Beyond the line of 
sycamore, poplar and fig-trees that shaded the gardens of 
Ilgiin, rose the distant chain of Allah Dagh, and in the pale- 
blue sky, not far above it, the dim face of the gibbous moon 
showed like the ghost of a planet. Our horses were feeding 
on the green meadow; an old Turk sat beside us, silent with 
fasting, and there was no sound but the shouts of the children 
in the bath. Such hours as these, after a day's journey made 
in the drowsy heat of an Eastern summer, are indescribably 
grateful. 

After the women had retired from the bath, we were allowed 
to enter. The interior consisted of a single chamber, thirty 
feet high, vaulted and almost dark. In the centre was a large 
basin of hot water, filled by four streams which poured into it 
A ledge ran around the sides, and niches in the wall supplied 
places for our clothes. The bath-keeper furnished us with 
towels, and we undressed and plunged in. The water was 
agreeably warm (about 90°), had a sweet taste, and a very 
slight sulphury smell. The vaulted hall redoubled the slight- 
est noise, and a shaven Turk, who kept us company, sang in 
his delight, that he might hear the echo of his own voice. 
When we went back to the tent we found our visitor lying on 



THE PLAGUE OF GAD-FLIES. 



269 



the ground, trying to stay his hunger. It was rather too bad 
in us to light our pipes, make a sherbet, and drink and smoke 
in his face, while we joked him about the Ramazan ; and he at 
last got up and walked off, the picture of distress. 

We made an early start the next morning, and rode on 
briskly over the rolling, grassy hills. A beautiful lake, with 
an island in it, lay at the foot of Emir Dagh. After two hours 
we reached a guard-house, where our teskeres were demanded, 
and the lazy guardsman invited us in to take coffee, that he 
might establish a right to the backsheesh which he could not 
demand. He had seen us afar off, and the coffee was smoking 
in the finjans when we arrived. The sun was already terribly 
hot, and the large, green gad-flies came in such quantities that 
I seemed to be riding in the midst of a swarm of bees. My 
horse suffered very much, and struck out his hind feet so 
violently, in his endeavors to get rid of them, that he racked 
every joint in my body. They were not content with suck- 
ing his blood, but settling on the small segment of my calf, 
exposed between the big Tartar boot and the flowing trowsers, 
bit through my stockings with fierce bills. I killed hundreds 
of them, to no purpose, and at last, to relieve my horse, tied a 
bunch of hawthorn to a string, by which I swung it under his 
belly and against the inner side of his flanks. In this way I 
gave him some relief — a service which he acknowledged by a 
grateful motion of his head. 

As we descended towards Ak-Sheher the country became 
exceedingly rich and luxuriant. The range of Sultan Dagh 
(the Mountain of the Sultan) rose on our left, its sides covered 
with a thick screen of shrubbery, and its highest peak dotted 
with patches of snow ; opposite, the lower range of Emir Dagh 



270 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



(the Mountain of the Prince) lay blue and bare in the sun- 
shine. The base of Sultan Dagh was girdled with groves of 
fruit-trees, stretching out in long lines on the plain, with fields 
of ripening wheat between. In the distance the large lake of 
Ak-Sheher glittered in the sun. Towards the north-west, the 
plain stretched away for fifty miles before reaching the hills. 
It is evidently on a much lower level than the plain of Konia ; 
the heat was not only greater, but the season was further 
advanced. Wheat was nearly read} for cutting, and the 
poppy-fields where, the day previous, the men were making 
their first incisions for opium, here had yielded their harvest 
and were fast ripening their seed. Ak-Sheher is beautifully 
situated at the entrance of a deep gorge in the mountains. It 
is so buried in its embowered gardens that little, except the 
mosque, is seen as you approach it. It is a large place, and 
boasts a fine mosque, but contains nothing worth seeing. The 
bazaar, after that of Konia, was the largest we had seen since 
leaving Tarsus. The greater part of the shopkeepers lay at 
full length, dozing, sleeping, or staying their appetites till the 
sunset gun. We found some superb cherries, and plenty of 
snow, which is brought down from the mountain. The 
natives were very friendly and good-humored, but seemed sur- 
prised at Mr. Harrison tasting the cherries, although I told 
them we were upon a journey. Our tent was pitched under a 
splendid walnut tree, outside of the town. The green mountain 
rose between us and the fading sunset, and the yellow moon 
was hanging in the east, as we took our dinner at the tent- 
door. Turks were riding homewards on donkeys, with loads of 
grass which they had been cutting in the meadows. The gun 
was fired, and the shouts of the children announced tha close 



THE BASE OF SULTAN DAGH. 



211 



of the da^s fast, while the sweet, melancholy voice of a boy- 
muezzin called us to sunset prayer, from the minaret. 

Leaving Ak-Sheher this morning, we rode along the base 
of Sultan Dagh. The plain which we overlooked was magnifi- 
cent The wilderness of shrubbery which fringed the slopes 
of the mountain gave place to great orchards and gardens, 
interspersed with fields of grain, which extended far out on 
the plain, to the wild thickets and wastes of reeds surrounding 
the lake. The sides of Sultan Dagh were terraced and culti- 
vated wherever it was practicable, and I saw some fields of 
wheat high up on the mountain. There were many people 
in the road or laboring in the fields ; and during the forenoon 
we passed several large villages. The country is more thickly 
inhabited, and has a more thrifty and prosperous air than any 
part of Asia Minor which I have seen. The people are better 
clad, have more open, honest, cheerful and intelligent faces, 
and exhibit a genuine courtesy and good-will in their demeanor 
towards us. I never felt more perfectly secure, or more certain 
of being among people whom I could trust 

We passed under the summit of Sultan Dagh, which shone 
out so clear and distinct in the morning sun, that I could 
scarcely realize its actual height above the plain. From a tre- 
mendous gorge, cleft between the two higher peaks, issued a 
large stream, which, divided into a hundred channels, fertilizes 
a wide extent of plain. About two hours from Ak-Sheher we 
passed a splendid fountain of crystal water, gushing up beside 
the road. I believe it is the same called by some travellers 
the Fountain of Midas, but am ignorant wherefore the name is 
given it. We rode for several hours through a succession of 
grand, rich landscapes. A smaller lake succeeded to that of 



272 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Ak-Sheher, Emir Dagh rose higher in the pale-blue sky, and 
Sultan Dagh showed other peaks, broken and striped with 
snow ; but around us were the same glorious orchards and 
gardens, the same golden-green wheat and rustling phalanxes 
of poppies — armies of vegetable Round-heads, beside the 
bristling and bearded Cavaliers. The sun was intensely hot 
during the afternoon, as we crossed the plain, and I became so 
drowsed that it required an agony of exertion to keep from 
tumbling off my horse. We here left the great post-road to 
Constantinople, and took a less frequented track. The plain 
gradually became a meadow, covered with shrub cypress, flags, 
reeds, and wild water-plants. There were vast wastes of luxu- 
riant grass, whereon thousands of black buffaloes were feeding. 
A stone causeway, containing many elegant fragments of 
ancient sculpture, extended across this part of the plain, but 
we took a summer path beside it, through beds of iris in bloom 
— a fragile snowy blossom, with a lip of the clearest golden 
hue. The causeway led to a bare salt plain, beyond which we 
came to the town of Bolawadiin, and terminated our day's 
journey of forty miles. 

Bolawadiin is a collection of mud houses, about a mile long, 
situated on an eminence at the western base of Emir Dagh. 
I went into the bazaar, which was a small place, and not very 
well supplied, though, as it was near sunset, there was quite a 
crowd of people, and the bakers were shovelling out their 
fresh bread at a brisk rate. Every one took me for a 
good Egyptian Mohammedan, and I was jostled right and left 
among the turbans, in a manner that certainly would not have 
happened me had I not also worn one. Mr. H., who had 
fallen behind the caravan, came up after we had encamped, 



BOLAWADUN. 



273 



and might have wandered a long time without finding us, but 
for the good-natured efforts of the inhabitants to set him 
aright. This evening he knocked over a hedgehog, mistaking 
it for a cat. The poor creature was severely hurt, and its sobs 
of distress, precisely like those of a little child, were so painful 
to hear, that we were obliged to have it removed from the 
vicinity of the tent. 



274 THE LANDS CF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THE FORESTS OF PHRYGIA. 

The Frontier of Phrygia— Ancient Quarries and Tombs— "We Enter the Pine Forests— A 
Guard-House — Encampments of the Turcomans— Pastoral Scenery — A Summer Vil- 
lage — The Yalley of the Tombs — Rock Sepulchres of the Phrygian Kings — The Titan's 
Camp — The Valley of Kiimbeh — A Land of Flowers — Turcoman Hospitality — The 
Exiled Effendis — The Old Turcoman — A Glimpse of Arcadia — A Landscape— Inter- 
ested Friendship — The Valley of the Purs-ek — Arrival at Kiutahya. 

" And round us all the thicket rang 
To many a flute of Arcady." Tennyson. 

Kiutahya, July 5, 1852. 

We had now passed through the ancient provinces of Cilicia, 
Cappadocia, and Lycaonia, and reached the confines of Phrygia 
— a rude mountain region, which was never wholly penetrated 
by the light of Grecian civilization. It is still comparatively 
a wilderness, pierced but by a single high-road, and almost 
unvisited by travellers, yet inclosing in its depths many curious 
relics of antiquity. Leaving Bolawadiin in the morning, we 
ascended a long, treeless mountain-slope, and in three or four 
hours reached the dividing ridge — the watershed of Asia 
Minor, dividing the affluents of the Mediterranean and the 
central lakes from the streams that flow to the Black Sea. 
Looking back, Sultan Dagh, along whose base we had travelled 
the previous day, lay high and blue in the background, 



ANCIENT QUARRIES AND TOMBS. 



2t5 



streaked with shining snow, and far away behind it arose 
a still higher peak, hoary with the lingering winter. We 
descended into a grassy plain, shut in by a range of broken 
mountains, covered to their summits with dark-green shrub- 
bery, through which the strata of marble rock gleamed like 
patches of snow. The hills in front were scarred with old 
quarries, once worked for the celebrated Phrygian marble. 
There was neither a habitation nor a human being to be seen, 
and the landscape had a singularly wild, lonely, and pictu- 
resque air. 

Turning westward, we crossed a high rolling tract, and 
entered a valley entirely covered with dwarf oaks and cedars. 
In spite of the dusty road, the heat, and the multitude of gad- 
flies, the journey presented an agreeable contrast to the great 
plains over which we had been travelling for many days. The 
opposite side of the glen was crowned with a tall crest of shat- 
tered rock, in which were many old Phrygian tombs. They 
were mostly simple chambers, with square apertures. There 
were traces of many more, the rock having been blown up or 
quarried down— the tombs, instead of protecting it, only fur- 
nishing one facility the more for destruction. After an hour's 
rest at a fountain, we threaded the windings of the glen to a 
lower plain, quite shut in by the hills, whose ribs of marble 
showed through the forests of oak, holly, cedar, and pine, which 
dotted them. We were now fully entered into the hill-country, 
and our road passed over heights and through hollows covered 
with picturesque clumps of foliage. It resembled some of the 
wild western downs of America, and, but for the Phrygian 
tombs, whose doorways stared at us from every rock, seemed 
as little familiar with the presence of Man. 



276 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Hadji Youssuf, in stopping to arrange some of the baggage, 
lost his hold of his mule, and in spite of every effort to secure 
her, the provoking beast kept her liberty for the rest of the 
day. In vain did we head her off, chase her, coax her, set 
traps for her : she was too cunning to be taken in, and 
marched along at her ease, running into every field of grain, 
stopping to crop the choicest bunches of grass, or walking 
demurely in the caravan, allowing the hadji to come within 
ami's length before she kicked up her heels and dashed away 
again. We had a long chase through the clumps of oak and 
holly, but all to no purpose. The great green gad-flies 
swarmed around us, biting myself as well as my horse. 
Hecatombs, crushed by my whip, dropped dead in the dust, 
but the ranks were immediately filled from some invisible 
reserve. The soil was no longer bare, but entirely covered 
with grass and flowers. Iu one of the valleys I saw a large 
patch of the crimson larkspur, so thick as to resemble a pool 
of blood. While crossing a long, hot hill, we came upon a 
little arbor of stones, covered with pine branches. It inclosed 
an ancient sarcophagus of marble, nearly filled with water. 
Beside it stood a square cup, with a handle, rudely hewn out 
of a piece of pine wood. This was a charitable provision for 
travellers, and constantly supplied by the Turcomans who lived 
in the vicinity. 

The last two hours of our journey that day were through a 
glorious forest of pines. The road lay in a winding glen, green 
and grassy, and covered to the summits on both sides with 
beautiful pine trees, intermixed with cedar. The air had the 
true northern aroma, and was more grateful than wine. Every 
turn of the glen disclosed a charming woodland view. It was 



THE GUARD-HOUSE. 



an 



a wild valley of the northern hills, filled with the burning 
lustre of a summer sun, and canopied by the brilliant blue of 
a summer sky. There were signs of the woodman's axe, and 
the charred embers of forest camp-fires. I thought of the 
lovely canadas in the pine forests behind Monterey, and cotfld 
really have imagined myself there. Towards evening we reached 
a solitary guard-house, on the edge of the forest. The glen 
here opened a little, and a stone fountain of delicious water 
furnished all that we wanted for a camping-place. The house 
was inhabited by three soldiers ; sturdy, good-humored fellows, 
who immediately spread a mat in the shade for us and made us 
some excellent coffee. A Turcoman encampment in the neigh- 
borhood supplied us with milk and eggs. 

The guardsmen were good Mussulmans, and took us for the 
same. One of them asked me to let him know when the sun 
was down, and I prolonged his fast until it was quite dark, 
when I gave him permission to eat. They all had tolerable 
stallions for their service, and seemed to live pleasantly enough, 
in their wild way. The fat, stumpy corporal, with his enor- 
mously broad pantaloons and automaton legs, went down to 
the fountain with his musket, and after taking a rest and 
sighting full five minutes, fired at a dove without hitting it. 
He afterwards joined us in a social pipe, and we sat on a car- 
pet at the door of the guard-house, watching the splendid 
moonrise through the pine boughs. When the pipes had 
burned out I went to bed, and slept a long, sweet sleep until 
dawn. 

We knew that the tombs of the Phrygian Kings could not 
be far off, and, on making inquiries of the corporal, found that 
he knew the place. It was not four hours distant, by a by-road, 



278 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



and as it would be impossible to reach it without a guide, he 
would give us one of his men, in consideration of a fee of 
twenty piastres. The difficulty was evident, in a hilly, wooded 
country like this, traversed by a labyrinth of valleys and 
ravines, and so we accepted the soldier. As we were about 
leaving, an old Turcoman, whose beard was dyed a bright red, 
came up, saying that he knew Mr. H. was a physician, and 
could cure him of his deafness. The morning air was sweet 
with the breath of cedar and pine, and we rode on through the 
woods and over the open turfy glades, in high spirits. We 
were in the heart of a mountainous country, clothed with ever- 
green forests, except some open upland tracts, which showed a 
thick green turf, dotted all over with park-like clumps, and 
single great trees. The pines were noble trunks, often sixty 
to eighty feet high, and with boughs disposed in all possible 
picturesqueness of form. The cedar frequently showed a solid 
white bole, three feet in diameter. 

"We took a winding footpath, often a mere track, striking 
across the hills in a northern direction. Everywhere we met 
the Turks of the plain, who are now encamped in the moun- 
tains, to tend their flocks through the summer months. Herds 
of sheep and goats were scattered over the green pasture-slopes, 
and the idle herd-boys basked in the morning sun, playing 
lively airs on a reed flute, resembling the Arabic zumarra. 
Here and there was a woodman, busy at a recently felled tree, 
and we met several of the creaking carts of the country, haul- 
ing logs. All that we saw had a pleasant rural air, a smack 
of primitive and unsophisticated life. From the higher ridges 
over which we passed, we could see, far to the east and west, 
other ranges of pine-covered mountains, and in the distance 



A TURCOMAN VILLAGE. 



2?9 



the cloudy lines of loftier chains. The trunks of the pines 
were nearly all charred, and many of the smaller trees dead, 
from the fires which, later in the year, rage in these forests. 

After four hours of varied and most inspiring travel, we 
reached a district covered for the most part with oak woods — a 
more open though still mountainous region. There was a sum- 
mer village of Turks scattered over the nearest slope — proba- 
bly fifty houses in all, almost perfect counterparts of Western 
log-cabins. They were built of pine logs, laid crosswise, and 
covered with rough boards. These, as we were told, were the 
dwellings of the people who inhabit the village of Khosref 
Pasha Khan during the winter. Great numbers of sheep and 
goats were browsing over the hills or lying around the doors 
of the houses. The latter were beautiful creatures, with heavy, 
curved horns, and long, white, silky hair, that entirely hid their 
eyes. We stopped at a house for water, which the man 
brought out in a little cask. He at first proposed giving us 
yaourt, and his wife suggested kaimak (sweet curds), which we 
agreed to take, but it proved to be only boiled milk. 

Leaving the village, we took a path leading westward, 
mounted a long hill, and again entered the pine forests. 
Before long, we came to a well-built country-house, somewhat 
resembling a Swiss cottage. It was two stories high, and 
there was an upper balcony, with cushioned divans, overlook- 
ing a thriving garden-patch and some fruit-trees. Three or 
four men were weeding in the garden, and the owner came up 
and welcomed us. A fountain of ice-cold water gushed into a 
stone trough at the door, making a tempting spot for our 
breakfast, but we were bent on reaching the tombs. There 
were convenient out-houses for fowls, sheep, and cattle. The 



2S0 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



herds were out, grazing along the edges of the forest, and we 
heard the shrill, joyous melodies of the flutes blown by the 
herd-boys. 

We now reached a ridge, whence we looked down through 
the forest upon a long valley, nearly half a mile wide, and bor- 
dered on the opposite side by ranges of broken sandstone 
crags. This was the place we sought — the Yalley of the 
Phrygian Tombs. Already we could distinguish the hewn 
faces of the rocks, and the dark apertures to the chambers 
within. The bottom of the valley was -a bed of glorious 
grass, blazoned with flowers, and redolent of all vernal 
smells. Several peasants, finding it too hot to mow, had 
thrown their scythes along the swarths, and were lying 
in the shade of an oak. We rode over the new-cut hay, 
up the opposite side, and dismounted at the face of the 
crags. As we approached them, the number of chambers 
hewn in the rock, the doors and niches now open to the 
day, surmounted by shattered spires and turrets, gave the 
whole mass the appearance of a grand fortress in ruins. The 
crags, which are of a very soft, reddish-gray sandstone, 
rise a hundred and fifty feet from their base, and their sum- 
mits are worn by the weather into the most remarkable 
forms. 

The principal monument is a broad, projecting cliff, one 
side of which has been cut so as to resemble the facade of a 
temple. The sculptured part is about sixty feet high by sixty 
in breadth, and represents a solid wall with two pilasters 
at the ends, upholding an architrave and pediment, which 
is surmounted by two large volutes. The whole face of the 
wall is covered with ornaments resembling panel-work, not in 



SEPULCHRES OF THE PHRYGIAN KINGS. 



281 



regular squares, but a labyrinth of intricate designs. In 
the centre, at the bottom, is a shallow square recess, sur 
rounded by an elegant, though plain moulding, but there is no 
appearance of an entrance to the sepulchral chamber, which 
may be hidden in the heart of the rock. There is an inscrip- 
tion in Greek running up one side, but it is of a later date 
than the work itself. On one of the tombs there is an inscrip- 
tion : " To King Midas." These relics are supposed to date 
from the period of the Gordian Dynasty, about seven centu- 
ries before Christ. 

A little in front of a headland, formed by the summit walls 
of two meeting valleys, rises a mass of rocks one hundred feet 
high, cut into sepulchral chambers, story above story, with 
the traces of steps between them, leading to others still higher. 
The whole rock, which may be a hundred and fifty feet long 
by fifty feet broad, has been scooped out, leaving but narrow 
partitions to separate the chambers of the dead. These cham- 
bers are all plain, but some are of very elegant proportions, 
with arched or pyramidal roofs, and arched recesses at the 
sides, containing sarcophagi hewn in the solid stone. There 
are also many niches for cinerary urns. The principal tomb 
had a portico, supported by columns, but the front is now 
entirely hurled down, and only the elegant panelling and stone 
joists of the ceiling remain. The entire hill was a succession 
of tombs. There is not a rock which does not bear traces of 
them. I might have counted several hundred within a stone's 
throw. The position of these curious remains in a lonely 
valley, shut in on all sides by dark, pine-covered mountains — 
two of which are crowned with a natural acropolis of rock, 
resembling a fortress — increases the interest with which they 



282 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



inspire the beholder. The valley on the western side, with its 
bed of ripe wheat in the bottom, its tall walls, towers, and 
pinnacles of rock, and its distant vista of mountain and forest, 
is the most picturesque in Phrygia. 

The Turcoman reapers, who came up to see us and talk with 
us, said that there were the remains of walls on the summit of 
the principal acropolis opposite us, and that, further up the 
valley, there was a chamber with two columns in front. 
Mr. Harrison and I saddled and rode off, passing along 
a wall of fantastic rock-turrets, at the base of which was 
a natural column, about ten feet high, and five in diameter, 
almost perfectly round, and upholding an immense rock, 
shaped like a cocked hat. In crossing the meadow we saw 
a Turk sitting in the sun beside a spring, and busily engaged 
in knitting a stocking. After a ride of two miles we found 
the chamber, hewn like the facade of a temple in an isolated 
rock, overlooking two valleys of wild meadow-land. The 
pediment and cornice were simple and beautiful, but the 
columns had been broken away. The chambers were perfectly 
plain, but the panel-work on the ceiling of the portico was 
entire. 

After passing three hours in examining these tombs, we 
took the track which our guide pointed out as the road to 
Kiutahya. We rode two hours through the forest, and came 
out upon a wooded height, overlooking a grand, open valley, 
rich in grain-fields and pasture land. While I was contemplat- 
ing this lovely view, the road turned a corner of the ridge, 
and lo ! before me there appeared (as I thought), above the 
tops of the pines, high up on the mountain side, a line of enor- 
mous tenta. Those snow-white cones, uprearing their sharp 



THE TITAN'S CAMP. 



283 



spires, and spreading out their broad bases — what could they be 
but an encampment of monster tents ? Yet no ; they were 
pinnacles of white rock — perfect cones, from thirty to one hun- 
dred feet in height, twelve in all, and ranged side by side along 
the edge of the cliff, with the precision of a military camp. 
They were snow-white, perfectly smooth and full, and their 
bases touched. What made the spectacle more singular, there 
was no other appearance of the same rock on the mountain. 
All around them was the dark-green of the pines, out of which 
they rose like drifted horns of unbroken snow. I named this 
singular phenomenon — which seems to have escaped the 
notice of travellers — The Titan's Camp. 

In another hour we reached a fountain near the village of 
Kunibeh, and pitched our tents for the night. The village, 
which is half a mile in length, is built upon a singular crag, 
which shoots up abruptly from the centre of the valley, rising 
at one extremity to a height of more than a hundred feet. It 
was entirely deserted, the inhabitants having all gone off to 
the mountains with their herds. The solitary muezzin, who 
cried the mughreb at the close of the fast, and lighted the 
lamps on his minaret, went through with his work in most 
unclerical haste, now that there was no one to notice him. We 
sent Achmet, the katurgee, to the mountain camp of the villa- 
gers, to procure a supply of fowls and barley. 

We rose very early yesterday morning, shivering in the cold 
air of the mountains, and just as the sun, bursting through the 
pines, looked down the little hollow where our tents were 
pitched, set the caravan in motion. The ride down the valley 
was charming. The land was naturally rich and highly culti- 
vated, which made its desertion the more singular. Leagues 



284 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



of wheat, rye and poppies spread around us, left for the summer 
warmth to do its silent work. The dew sparkled on the fields 
as we rode through them, and the splendor of the flowers in 
blossom was equal to that of the plains of Palestine. There 
were purple, white and scarlet poppies ; the rich crimson lark- 
spur ; the red anemone ; the golden daisy ; the pink convolvu- 
lus ; and a host of smaller blooms, so intensely bright and 
dazzling in their hues, that the meadows were richer than a 
pavement of precious jewels. To look towards the sun, over 
a field of scarlet poppies, was like looking on a bed of live 
coals ; the light, striking through the petals, made them burn 
as with an inward fire. Out of this wilderness of gorgeous 
color, rose the tall spires of a larger plant, covered with great 
yellow flowers, while here and there the snowy blossoms of a 
clump of hawthorn sweetened the morning air. 

A short distance beyond Kiimbeh, we passed another group 
of ancient tombs, one of which was of curious design. An 
isolated rock, thirty feet in height by twenty in diameter, was 
cut so as to resemble a triangular tower, with the apex bevelled. 
A chamber, containing a sarcophagus, was hewn out of the 
interior. The entrance was ornamented with double columns 
in bas-relief, and a pediment. There was another arched 
chamber, cut directly through the base of the triangle, with a 
niche on each side, hollowed out at the bottom so as to form a 
sarcophagus. 

Leaving these, the last of the Phrygian tombs, we struck 
across the valley and ascended a high range of hills, covered 
with pine, to an upland, wooded region. Here we found a 
summer village of log cabins, scattered over a grassy slope. 
The people regarded us with some curiosity, and the women 



THE EXILED EFFENDI3. 



285 



hastily concealed their faces. Mr. H. rode up to a large new 
house, and peeped in between the logs. There were several 
women inside, who started up in great confusion and threw 
over their heads whatever article was most convenient. An 
old man, with a long white beard, neatly dressed in a green 
jacket and shawl turban, came out and welcomed us. I asked 
for kaimak, which he promised, and immediately brought out a 
carpet and spread it on the ground. Then followed a large 
basin of kaimak, with wooden spoons, three loaves of bread, 
and a plate of cheese. We seated ourselves on the carpet, and 
delved in with the spoons, while the old man retired lest his 
appetite should be provoked. The milk was excellent, nor 
were the bread and cheese to be despised. 

While we were eating, the Khowagee, or schoolmaster of the 
community, a genteel little man in a round white turban, came 
up to inquire of Francis who we were. " That effendi in the 
blue dress," said he, " is the Bey, is he not ?" " Yes," said F. 
" And the other, with the striped shirt and white turban, is a 
writer ?" [Here he was not far wrong.] " But how is it that 
the effendis do not speak Turkish'?" he persisted. " Because," 
said Francis, " their fathers were exiled by Sultan Mahmoud 
when they were small children. They have grown up in 
Aleppo like Arabs, and have not yet learned Turkish ; but 
G-od grant that the Sultan may not turn his face away from 
them, and that they may regain the rank their fathers once had 
in Stamboul." " God grant it !" replied the Khowagee, 
greatly interested in the story. By this time we had eaten our 
full share of the kaimak, which was finished by Francis and 
the katurgees. The old man now came up, mounted on a 
dun mare, stating that he was bound for Kiutahya, and wa3 



286 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



delighted with the prospect of travelling in such good company. 
I gave one of his young children some money, as the kaimak 
was tendered out of pure hospitality, and so we rode off. 

Our new companion was armed to the teeth, having a long gun 
with a heavy wooden stock and nondescript lock, and a sword 
of excellent metal. It was, in fact, a weapon of the old Greek 
empire, and the cross was still enamelled in gold at the root of 
the blade, in spite of all his efforts to scratch it out. He was 
something of a falceer, having made a pilgrimage to Mecca and 
Jerusalem. He was very inquisitive, plying Francois with 
questions about the government. The latter .answered that 
we were not connected with the government, but the old fellow 
shrewdly hinted that he knew better — we were persons of rank, 
travelling incognito. He was very attentive to us, offering us 
water at every fountain, although he believed us to be good 
Mussulmans. We found him of some service as a guide, short- 
ening our road by taking by-paths through the woods. 

For several hours we traversed a beautifully wooded region 
of hills. Graceful clumps of pine shaded the grassy knolls, 
where the sheep and silky-haired goats were basking at rest, 
and the air was filled with a warm, summer smell, blown from 
the banks of golden broom. Now and then, from the thickets 
of laurel and arbutus, a shrill shepherd's reed piped some 
joyous woodland melody. Was it a Faun, astray among the 
hills ? Green dells, open to the sunshine, and beautiful as 
dreams of Arcady, divided the groves of pine. The sky over- 
head was pure and cloudless, clasping the landscape with its belt 
of peace and silence. Oh, that delightful region, haunted by 
all the bright spirits of the immortal Grecian Song ! Chased 
away from the rest of the earth, here they have found a homo 



A PHRYGIAN LANDSCAPE. 



287 



—here secret altars remain to them from the times that are 
. departed ! 

Out of these woods, we passed into a lonely plain, inclosed 
by piny hills that brightened in the thin, pure ether. In the 
distance were some shepherds' tents, and musical goat-bells tin- 
kled along the edges of the woods. From the crest of a lofty 
ridge beyond this plain, we looked back over the wild solitudes 
wherein we had been travelling for two days — long ranges of 
dark hills, fading away behind each other, with a perspective 
that hinted of the hidden gulfs between. From the western 
slope, a still more extensive prospect opened before us. Over 
ridges covered with forests of oak and pine, we saw the valley of 
the Pursek, the ancient Thymbrius, stretching far away to the 
misty line of Keshish Dagh. The mountains behind Kiutahya 
loomed up high and grand, making a fine feature in the middle 
distance. We caught but fleeting glimpses of the view through 
the trees ; and then, plunging into the forest again, descended 
to a cultivated slope, whereon there was a little village, now 
deserted. The grave-yard beside it was shaded with large 
cedar-trees, and near it there was a fountain of excellent water. 
" Here," said the old man, " you can wash and pray, and then 
rest awhile under the trees." Francois excused us by saying 
that, while on a journey, we always bathed before praying ; 
but, not to slight his faith entirely, I washed my hands and face 
before sitting down to our scanty breakfast of bread and 
water. 

Our path now led down through long, winding glens, over- 
grown with oaks, from which the wild yellow honeysuckles fell 
in a shower of blossoms. As we drew near the valley, the old 
man began to hint that his presence had been of great service 



288 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



to us, and deserved recompense. " God knows," said he to 
Francois, "in what corner of the mountains you might now be, 
if I had not accompanied you." " Oh," replied Francois, " there 
are always plenty of people among the woods, who would have 
been equally as kind as yourself in showing us the way." He 
then spoke of the robbers in the neighborhood, and pointed out 
some graves by the road-side, as those of persons who had 
been murdered. " But," he added, " everybody in these parts 
knows me, and whoever is in company with me is always safe." 
The Greek assured him that we always depended on ourselves 
for our safety. Defeated on these tacks, he boldly affirmed 
that his services were worthy of payment. " But," said Fran- 
cois, " you told us at the village that you had business in Kiu- 
tahya, and would be glad to join us for the sake of having 
company on the road." " Well, then/' rejoined the old fellow, 
making a last effort, '> I leave the matter to your politeness. 
" Certainly," replied the imperturbable dragoman, " we could 
not be so impolite as to offer money to a man of your wealth 
and station ; we could not insult you by giving you alms." 
The old Turcoman thereupon gave a shrug and a grunt, made 
a sullen good-by salutation, and left us. 

It was nearly six o'clock when we reached the Pursek. 
There was no sign of the city, but we could barely discern an old 
fortress on the lofty cliff which commands the town. A long 
stone bridge crossed the river, which here separates into half a 
dozen channels. The waters are swift and clear, and wind 
away in devious mazes through the broad green meadows. TVe 
hurried on, thinking we saw minarets in the distance, but they 
proved to be poplars. The sun sank lower and lower, and 
finally went down before there was any token of our being in 



ARRIVAL AT KIUTAHYA, 



289 



the vicinity of the city. Soon, however, a line of tiled roofs 
appeared along the slope of a hill on our left, and turning its 
base, we saw the city before us, filling the mouth of a deep 
valley or gorge, which opened from the mountains. 

But the horses are saddled, and Francois tells me it is time 
to put up my pen. We are off, over the mountains, to the old 
Greek city of CEzani, in the valley of the Rhyndacus. 



290 



THE LANDS QT ME SARACEN. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

KIUTAHYA, AND THE RUINS OF (EZANI. 

Entrance into Kiutahya —The New Khan — An Unpleasant Discovery — Kiutahya — The 
Citadel— Panorama from the "Walls — The Gorge of the Mountains — Camp in a 
Meadow — The Valley of the Rhyndacus — Chavdiir — The Ruins of (Ezani — The Acro- 
polis and Temple — The Theatre and Stadium— Ride down the Valley — Camp at Daghje 
K5i. 

" There is a temple in ruin stands, 
Fashioned by long-forgotten hands ; 
Two or three columns and many a stone, 
Marble and granite, with grass o'ergrown t 
Out upon Time ! it will leave no more 
Of the things to come than the things before !" 

Daghje E6i, on the Rhyndacus, July 6, 1852. 

On 'entering Kiutahya, we passed the barracks, which were 
the residence of Kossuth and his companions in exile. Beyond 
them, we came to a broad street, down which flowed the vilest 
stream of filth of which even a Turkish city could ever boast. 
The houses on either side were two stories high, the upper 
part of wood, with hanging balconies, over which shot the 
eaves of the tiled roofs. The welcome cannon had just 
sounded, announcing the close of the day's fast. The coffee- 
shops were already crowded with lean and hungry customers, 
the pipes were filled and lighted, and the coffee smoked in the 
finjans. In half a minute such whiffs arose on all sides as it 
would have cheered the heart of a genuine smoker to behold. 



THE NEW KHAN. 



291 



Out of these cheerful places we passed into other streets which 
were entirely deserted, the inhabitants being at dinner. It 
had a weird, uncomfortable effect to ride through streets 
where the clatter of our horses 7 hoofs was the only sound of 
life. At last we reached the entrance to a bazaar, and near it 
a khan — a new khan, very neatly built, and with a spare room 
so much better than we expected, that we congratulated our- 
selves heartily. We unpacked in a hurry, and Francois ran 
off to the bazaar, from which he speedily returned with some 
roast kid, cucumbers, and cherries. We lighted two lamps, I 
borrowed the oda-bashi's narghileh, and Francois, learning that 
it was our national anniversary, procured us a flask of Greek 
wine, ffiaT^vve might do it honor. The beverage, however, 
resembled a mixture of vinegar and sealing-wax, and we con- 
tented ourselves with drinking patriotic toasts, in two finjans 
of excellent coffee. But in the midst of our enjoyment, hap- 
pening to cast my eye on the walls, I saw a sight that turned 
all our honey into gall. Scores on scores — nay, hundreds on 
hundreds — of enormous bed-bugs swarmed on the plaster, and 
were already descending to our beds and baggage. To sleep 
there was impossible, but we succeeded in getting possession of 
one of the outside balconies, where we made our beds, after 
searching them thoroughly. 

In the evening a merchant, who spoke a little Arabic, came 
up to me and asked : "Is not your Excellency's friend the 
hakim pasha?" (chief physican). I did not venture to assent, 
but replied : " No ; he is a sowakhP This was beyond his 
comprehension, and he went away with the impression that 
Mr. H. was much greater than a hakim pasha. I slept soundly 
on my out-doors bed, but was awakened towards morning by 



292 



THE LANDS OF TEE SARACEN. 



two tremendous claps of thunder, echoing in the gorge, and the 
rattling of rain on the roof of the khan. 

I spent two or three hours next morning in taking a survey 
of Kiutahya. The town is much larger than I had supposed : 
I should judge it to contain from fifty to sixty thousand inhabi- 
tants. The situation is remarkable, and gives a picturesque 
effect to the place when seen from above, which makes one 
forget its internal filth. It is built in the mouth of a gorge, 
and around the bases of the hills on either side. The lofty 
mountains which rise behind it supply it with perpetual springs 
of pure water. At every dozen steps you come upon a foun- 
tain, and every large street has a brook in the centre. The 
houses are all two and many of them three stories high, with 
hanging balconies, which remind me much of Switzerland. 
The bazaars are very extensive, covering all the base of the hill 
on which stands the ancient citadel. The goods displayed were 
mostly European cotton fabrics, quincaillerie, boots and slippers, 
pipe-sticks and silks. In the parts devoted to the produce of 
the country, I saw very fine cherries, cucumbers and lettuce, 
and bundles of magnificent clover, three to four feet high. 

We chmbed a steep path to the citadel, which covers the 
summit of an abrupt, isolated hill, connected by a shoulder 
with the great range. The walls are nearly a mile in circuit, 
consisting almost wholly of immense circular buttresses, placed 
so near each other that they almost touch. The connecting 
walls are broken down on the northern side, so that from below 
the buttresses have the appearance of enormous shattered 
columns. They are built of rough stones, with regular layers 
of fiat, burnt bricks. On the highest part of the hill stands 
the fortress, or stronghold, a place which must have been 



THE CITADEL OF KIUTAHYA. 



293 



almost impregnable before the invention of cannon. The strue 
ture probably dates from the ninth or tenth century, but is 
bailt on the foundations of more ancient edifices. The old 
Greek city of Cotyaeum (whence Kiutahya) probably stood 
upon this hill. Within the citadel is an upper town, contain- 
ing about a hundred houses, the residence, apparently of poor 
families. 

Prom the circuit of the walls, on every side, there are grand 
views over the plain, the city, and the gorges of the moun- 
tains behind. The valley of the Pursek, freshened by the last 
night's shower, spread out a sheet of vivid green, to the pine- 
covered mountains which bounded it on all sides. Around 
the city it was adorned with groves and gardens, and, in the 
direction of Brousa, white roads went winding away to other 
gardens and villages in the distance. The mountains of 
Phrygia, through which we had passed, were the loftiest in 
the circle that inclosed the valley. The city at our feet pre- 
sented a thick array of red- tiled roofs, out of which rose here 
and there the taper shaft of a minaret, or the dome of a 
mosque or bath. Prom the southern side of the citadel, we 
looked down into the gorge which supplies Kiutahya with 
water — a wild, desert landscape of white crags and shattered 
peaks of gray rock, hanging over a narrow winding bed of the 
greenest foliage. 

Instead of taking the direct road to Brousa, we decided to 
make a detour of two days, in order to visit the ruins of the old 
Greek city of CEzani, which are thirty-six miles south of Kiu- 
tahya. Leaving at noon, w r e ascended the gorge behind the 
city, by delightfully embowered paths, at first under the eaves 
of superb walnut-trees, and then through wild thickets of wil- 



294 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

low, hazel, privet, and other shrubs, tangled together with the 
odorous white honeysuckle. Near the city, the mountain-sides 
were bare white masses of gypsum and other rock, in many 
places with the p irest chrome-yellow hue ; but as we advanced, 
they were clothed to the summit with copsewood. The streams 
that foamed down these perennial heights were led into buried 
channels, to come to light again in sparkling fountains, pouring 
into ever-full stone basins. The day was cool and cloudy, and 
the heavy shadows which hung on the great sides of the moun- 
tain gateway, heightened, by contrast, the glory of the sunlit 
plain seen through them. 

After passing the summit ridge, probably 5,000 feet above 
the sea, we came upon a wooded, hilly region, stretching away 
in long misty lines to Murad Dagh, whose head was spotted 
with snow. There were patches of wheat and rye in the hol- 
.ows, and the bells of distant herds tinkled occasionally among 
the trees. There was no village on the road, and we were on 
the way to one which we saw in the distance, when we came 
upon a meadow of good grass, with a small stream running 
through it. Here we encamped, sending Achmet, the katur- 
gee, to the village for milk and eggs. The ewes had just been 
milked for the suppers of their owners, but they went over the 
flock again, stripping their udders, which greatly improved 
the quality of the milk. The night was so cold that I could 
scarcely sleep during the morning hours. There was a chill, 
heavy dew on the meadow ; but when Francois awoke me at 
sunrise, the sky was splendidly clear and pure, and the early 
beams had a little warmth in them. Our coffee, before start- 
ing, made with sheep's milk, was the richest I ever drank. 

After riding for two hours across broad, wild ridges, covered 



THE RUIN 3 OF GEZANI. 



295 



with cedar, we reached a height overlooking the valley of the 
Rhyndacus, or rather the plain whence he draws his sources — 
a circular level, ten or twelve miles in diameter, and contract- 
ing towards the west into a narrow dell, through which his 
waters find outlet ; several villages, each embowered in gar- 
dens, were scattered along the bases of the hills that inclose it. 
We took the wrong road, but were set aright by a herdsman, 
and after threading a lane between thriving grain-fields, were 
cheered by the sight of the Temple of (Ezani, lifted on its 
acropolis above the orchards of Chavdiir, and standing out 
sharp and clear against the purple ot the hills. 

Our approach to the city was marked by the blocks of sculp- 
tured marble that lined the way : elegant mouldings, cornices, 
and entablatures, thrown together with common stone to make 
walls between the fields. The village is built on both sides of 
the Rhyndacus : it is an ordinary Turkish hamlet, with tiled 
roofs and chimneys, and exhibits very few of the remains of 
the old city in its composition. This, I suspect, is owing to 
the great size of the hewn blocks, especially of the pillars, 
cornices, and entablatures, nearly all of which are from twelve 
to fifteen feet long. It is from the size and number of these 
scattered blocks, rather than from the buildings which still 
partially exist, that one obtains an idea of the size and splen- 
dor of the ancient (Ezani. The place is filled with fragments, 
especially of columns, of which there are several hundred, 
nearly all finely fluted. The Rhyndacus is still spanned by an 
ancient bridge of three arches, and both banks are lined with 
piers of hewn stone. Tall poplars and massy walnuts of the 
richest green shade the clear waters, and there are many pic- 
turesque combinations of foliage and ruin — death and life — 



296 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



which would charm a painter's eye. Xear the bridge we 
stopped to examine a pile of immense fragments which have 
been thrown together by the Turks — pillars, cornices, altars, 
pieces of a frieze, with bulls' heads bound together by hanging 
garlands, and a large square block, with a legible tablet. It 
resembled an altar in form, and, from the word "Artemidoron," 
appeared to have belonged to some temple to Diana. 

Passing through the village we came to a grand artificial 
platform on its western side, called the Acropolis. It is of 
solid masonry, five hundred feet square, and averaging ten feet 
in height. On the eastern side it is supported on rude though 
massive arches, resembling Etruscan workmanship. On the 
top and around the edges of this platform lie great numbers of 
fluted columns, and immense fragments of cornice and archi- 
trave. In the centre, on a foundation platform about eight 
feet high, stands a beautiful Ionic temple, one hundred feet in 
length. On approaching, it appeared nearly perfect, except 
the roof, and so many of the columns remain standing that its 
ruined condition scarcely injures the effect. There are seventeen 
columns on the side and eight at the end, Ionic in style, fluted, 
and fifty feet in height. About half the cella remains, with an 
elegant frieze and cornice along the top, and a series of tablets, 
set in panels of ornamental sculpture, running along the sides. 
The front of the cella includes a small open peristyle, with two 
composite Corinthian columns at the entrance, making, with 
those of the outer colonnade, eighteen columns standing. The 
tablets contain Greek inscriptions, perfectly legible, where the 
stone has not been shattered. Under the temple there are large 
vaults, which we found filled up with young kids, who had 
gone in there to escape the heat of the sun. The portico was 



THE THEATRE AND STADIUM, 



29? 



occupied by sheep, which at first refused to make room for us, 
and gave strong olfactory evidence of their partiality for the 
temple as a resting-place. 

On the side of a hill, about three hundred yards to the 
north, are the remains of a theatre, Crossing some patches of 
barley and lentils, we entered a stadium, forming an extension 
of the theatre — that is, it took the same breadth and direction, 
so that the two might be considered as one grand work, more 
than one thousand feet long by nearly four hundred wide. 
The walls of the stadium are hurled down, except an entrance 
of five arches of massive masonry, on the western side. We 
rode up the artificial valley, between high, grassy hills, com- 
pletely covered with what at a distance resembled loose boards, 
but which were actually the long marble seats of the stadium. 
Urging our horses over piles of loose blocks, we reached the 
base of the theatre, climbed the fragments that cumber the 
main entrance, and looked on the spacious arena and galleries 
within. Although greatly ruined, the materials of the whole 
structure remain, and might be put together again. It is a 
grand wreck ; the colossal fragments which have tumbled from 
the arched proscenium fill the arena, and the rows of seats, 
though broken and disjointed, still retain their original order. 
It is somewhat more than a semicircle, the radius being about 
one hundred and eighty feet. The original height was upwards 
of fifty feet, and there were fifty rows of seats in all, 
each row capable of seating two hundred persons, so that 
the number of spectators who could be accommodated was 
eight thousand. 

The fragments cumbering the arena were enormous, and 
highly interesting from their character. There were rich 

13* 



298 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN'. 



blocks of cornice, ten feet long ; fluted and reeded pillars ; 
great arcs of heavily-carved sculpture, which appeared to have 
served as architraves from pillar to pillar, along the face of 
the proscenium, where there was every trace of having been a 
colonnade ; and other blocks sculptured with figures of ani- 
mals in alto-relievo. There were generally two figures on each 
block, and among those which could be recognized were the 
dog and the lion. Doors opened from the proscenium into the 
retiring-rooms of the actors, under which were the vaults 
where the beasts were kept. A young fox or jackal started 
from his siesta as we entered the theatre, and took refuge 
under the loose blocks. Looking backwards through the 
stadium from the seats of the theatre, we had a lovely view of 
the temple, standing out clear and bright in the midst of the 
summer plain, with the snow-streaked summits of Murad Dagh 
in the distance. It was a picture which I shall long remem- 
ber. The desolation of the magnificent ruins was made all 
the more impressive by the silent, solitary air of the region 
around them. 

Leaving Chavdur in the afternoon, we struck northward, 
down the valley of the Rhyndacus, over tracts of rolling land, 
interspersed with groves of cedar and pine. There were so 
many branch roads and crossings that we could not fail to go 
wrong ; and after two or three hours found ourselves in 
the midst of a forest, on the broad top of a mountain, without 
any road at all. There were some herdsmen tending their 
flocks near at hand, but they could give us no satisfactory 
direction. "We thereupon took our own course, and soon 
brought up on the brink of a precipice, overhanging a deep 
valley. Away to the eastward we caught a glimpse of the 



CAiIi J AT DAGHJE KOI. 



299 



Rhyndacus, and the wooden minaret of a little village on his 
banks. Following the edge of the precipice, we came at last 
to a glen, down which ran a rough footpath that finally 
conducted us, by a long road through the forests, to the 
village of Daghje Koi, where we are now encamped. 

The place seems to be devoted to the making of flints, and 
the streets are filled with piles of the chipped fragments. Our 
tent is pitched on the bank of the river, in a barren meadow. 
The people tell us that the whole region round about has just 
been visited by a plague of grasshoppers, which have destroyed 
their crops. Our beasts have wandered off to the hills, 
in search for grass, and the disconsolate Hadji is hunting 
them. Achmet, the katurgee, lies near the fire, sick ; Mr. 
Harrison complains of fever, and Francois moves about lan- 
guidly, with a dismal countenance. So here we are in the soli- 
tudes of Bithynia, but there is no God but God, and that 
which is destined comes to pass. 



300 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER XXIY. 

THE MYSIAN OLYMPUS. 

Journey Down the Valley — The Plague of Grasshoppers — A Defile — The Town of Tau- 
shanlii — The Camp of Famine — "We leave the Rhyndacus — The Base of Olympus — 
Primeval Forests — The Guard-House— Scenery of the Summit — Forests of Beech— 
Saw-Mills — Descent of the Mountain — The View of Olympus — Morning — The Land of 
Harvest — Aineghiol — A Showery Ride — The Plain of Brousa — The Structure of Olym- 
pus — We reach Brou3a— The Tent is Furled. 

" I looked yet farther and higher, and saw in the heavens a silvery cloud that stood 
fast, and still against the breeze ; * * * * and so it was as a sign and a testimony— 
almost as a call from the neglected gods, that I now saw and acknowledged the snowy 
crown of the Mysian Olympus !" Ejnglake. 

Brousa, July 9, 1S52. 

Prom Daghje Koi, there were two roads to Taushanlii, but the 
people informed us that the one which led across the moun- 
tains was difficult to find, and almost impracticable. TVe 
therefore took the river road, which we found picturesque in 
the highest degree. The narrow dell of the Rhyndacus wound 
through a labyrinth of mountains, sometimes turning at sharp 
angles between craggy buttresses, covered with forests, and 
sometimes broadening out into a sweep of valley, where the 
villagers were working in companies among the grain and 
poppy fields. The banks of the stream were lined with oak, 
willow and sycamore, and forests of pine, descending from the 
mountains, frequently overhung the road. We met numbers 



THE PLAGUE OF GRASSHOPPERS. 



301 



of peasants, going to and from the fields, and once a company 
of some twenty women, who, on seeing us, clustered together 
like a flock of frightened sheep, and threw their mantles over 
their heads. They had curiosity enough, however, to peep at 
us as we went by, and I made them a salutation, which they 
returned, .and then burst into a chorus of hearty laughter. All 
this region was ravaged by a plague of grasshoppers. The 
earth was black with them in many places, and our horses 
ploughed up a living spray, as they drove forward through the 
meadows. Every spear of grass was destroyed, and the wheat 
and rye fields were terribly cut up. We passed a large crag 
where myriads of starlings had built their nests, and every 
starling had a grasshopper in his mouth. 

We crossed the river, in order to pass a narrow defile, by 
which it forces its way through the rocky heights of Dumanidj 
Dagh. Soon after passing the ridge, a broad and beautiful 
valley expanded before us. It was about ten miles in breadth, 
nearly level, and surrounded by picturesque ranges of wooded 
mountains. It was well cultivated, principally in rye and pop- 
pies, and more thickly populated than almost any part of 
Europe. The tinned tops of the minarets of Taushanlu shone 
over the top of a hill in front, and there was a large town 
nearly opposite, on the other bank of the Rhyndacus, and 
seven small villages scattered about in various directions. Most 
of the latter, however, were merely the winter habitations of 
the herdsmen, who are now living in tents on the mountain 
tops. All over the valley, the peasants were at work in the 
harvest-fields, cutting and binding grain, gathering opium from 
the poppies, or weeding the young tobacco. In the south, over 
the rim of the hills that shut in this pastoral solitude, rose the 



302 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



long blue summits of Urus Dagh. We rode into Taushanlu, 
which is a long town, filling up a hollow between two stony 
hills. The houses are all of stone, two stories high, with tiled 
roofs and chimneys, so that, but for the clapboarded and 
shingled minarets, it would answer for a North-German 
village. 

The streets were nearly deserted, and even in the bazaars, 
which are of some extent, we found but few persons. Those 
few, however, showed a laudable curiosity with regard to us, 
clustering about us whenever we stopped, and staring at 
us with provoking pertinacity. We had some difficulty in 
procuring information concerning the road, the directions being 
so contradictory that we were as much in the dark as ever. 
We lost half an hour in wandering among the hills ; and, after 
travelling four hours over piny uplands, without finding the 
village of Kara Koi, encamped on a dry plain, on the western 
bank of the river. There was not a spear of grass for the 
beasts, everything being eaten up by the grasshoppers, and 
there were no Turcomans near who could supply us with food. 
So we dined on hard bread and black coffee, and our forlorn 
beasts walked languidly about, cropping the dry stalks of weeds 
and the juiceless roots of the dead grass. 

We crossed the river next morning, and took a road follow- 
ing its course, and shaded with willows and sycamores. The 
lofty, wooded ranges of the Mysian Olympus lay before us, 
and our day's work was to pass them. After passing the vil- 
lage of Kara Koi, we left the valley of the Rhyndacus, and 
commenced ascending one of the long, projecting spurs thrust 
out from the main chain of Olympus. At first we rode 
through thickets of scrubby cedar, but soon came to magnifi 



PRIMEVAL FORESTS. 



303 



cent pine forests, that grew taller and sturdier the higher we 
clomb. A superb mountain landscape opened behind us. The 
valleys sank deeper and deeper, and at last disappeared behind 
the great ridges that heaved themselves out of the wilderness 
of smaller hills. All these ridges were covered with forests ; 
and as we looked backwards out of the tremendous gulf up the 
sides of which we were climbing, the scenery was wholly wild 
and uncultivated. Our path hung on the imminent side 
of a chasm so steep that one slip might have been destruction 
to both horse and rider. Far below us, at the bottom of the 
chasm, roared an invisible torrent. The opposite side, vapory 
from its depth, rose like an immense wall against Heaven. 
The pines were even grander than those in the woods of 
Phrygia. Here they grew taller and more dense, hanging 
their cloudy boughs over the giddy depths, and clutching with 
desperate roots to the almost perpendicular sides of the gorges. 
In many places they were the primeval forests of Olympus, 
and the Hamadryads were not yet frightened from their haunts. 

Thus, slowly toiling up through the sublime wilderness, 
breathing the cold, pure air of those lofty regions, we came at 
last to a little stream, slowly trickling down the bed of the 
gorge. It was shaded, not by the pine, but by the Northern 
beech, with its w T hite trunk and close, confidential boughs, 
made for the talks of lovers and the meditations of poets. 
Here we stopped to breakfast, but there was nothing for the 
poor beasts to eat, and they waited for us droopingly, with 
their heads thrust together. While we sat there three 
camels descended to the stream, and after them a guard with 
a long gun. He was a well-made man, with a brown face, 
keen, black eye, and piratical air, and would have made a good 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



hero of modern romance. Higher up we came to a guard- 
house, on a little cleared space, surrounded by beech forests. 
It was a rough stone hut, with a white flag planted on a pole 
before it, and a miniature water-wheel, running a miniature 
saw at a most destructive rate, beside the door. 

Continuing our way, we entered on a region such as I had 
no idea could be found in Asia, The mountains, from the 
bottoms of the gorges to their topmost summits, were covered 
with the most superb forests of beech I ever saw — masses of 
impenetrable foliage, of the most brilliant green, touched here 
and there by the darker top of a pine. Our road was through 
a deep, dark shade, and on either side, up and down, we saw 
but a cool, shadowy solitude, sprinkled with dots of emerald 
light, and redolent with the odor of damp earth, moss, and 
dead leaves. It was a forest, the counterpart of which could 
only be found in America — such primeval magnitude of growth, 
such wild luxuriance, such complete solitude and silence ! 
Through the shafts of the pines we had caught glorious 
glimpses of the blue mountain world below us ; but now the 
beech folded us in its arms, and whispered in our ears the 
legends of our Northern home. There, on the ridges of the 
Mysian Olympus, sacred to the bright gods of Grecian song, I 
found the inspiration of our darker and colder clime and age. 
" O gloriosi spiriti degli hoschi ¥* 

I could scarcely contain myself, from surprise and joy. 
Francis failed to find French adjectives sufficient for his admi- 
ration, and even our cheating katurgees were touched by the 
spirit of the scene. On either side, whenever a glimpse could 
be had through the boughs, we looked upon leaning walls of 
trees, whose tall, rounded tops basked in the sunshine, while 



THE SUMMIT OF OLYMPUS. 



305 



their bases were wrapped in the shadows cast by themselves. 
Thus, folded over each other like scales, or feathers on a 
falcon's wing, they clad the mountain. The trees were taller, 
and had a darker and more glossy leaf than the American 
beech. By and by patches of blue shone between the boughs 
before us, a sign that the summit was near, and before one 
o'clock we stood upon the narrow ridge forming the crest of 
the mountain. Here, although we were between five and six 
thousand feet above the sea, the woods of beech were a 
hundred feet in height, and shut out all view. On the 
northern side the forest scenery is even grander than on the 
southern. The beeches are magnificent trees, straight as an 
arrow, and from a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet in height. 
Only now and then could we get any view beyond the shadowy 
depths sinking below us, and then it was only to see similar 
mountain ranges, buried in foliage, and rolling far behind each 
other into the distance. Twice, in the depth of the gorge, we 
saw a saw-mill, turned by the snow-cold torrents. Piles of 
pine and beechen boards were heaped around them, and the 
sawyers were busily plying their lonely business. The axe of 
the woodman echoed but rarely through the gulfs, though many 
large trees lay felled by the roadside. The rock, which 
occasionally cropped out of the soil, was white marble, and 
there was a shining precipice of it, three hundred feet high, on 
the opposite side of the gorge. 

After four hours of steady descent, during the last hour of 
which we passed into a forest entirely of oaks, we reached the 
first terrace at the base of the mountain. Here, as I was 
riding in advance of the caravan, I met a company of Turkish 
officers, who sainted me with an inclination of the most pro- 



306 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



found reverence. I replied with due Oriental gravity, which 
seemed to justify their respect, for when they met Francois, 
who is everywhere looked upon as a Turkish janissary, they 
asked: "Is not your master a Shekh el-Islam V "You are 
right : he is," answered the unscrupulous Greek. A Shekh 
el-Islam is a sort of high-priest, corresponding in dignity to a 
Cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church. It is rather singular 
that I am generally taken for a Secretary of some kind, or a 
Moslem priest, while my companion, who, by this time, has 
assumed the Oriental expression, is supposed to be either medi- 
cal or military. 

We had no sooner left the forests and entered the copse- 
wood which followed, than the blue bulk of Olympus suddenly 
appeared in the west, towering far into the sky. It is a magni- 
ficent mountain, with a broad though broken summit, streaked 
with snow. Before us, stretching away almost to his base, lay 
a grand mountain slope, covered with orchards and golden 
harvest-fields. Through lanes of hawthorn and chestnut trees 
in blossom, which were overgrown with snowy clematis and 
made a shady roof above our heads, we reached the little 
village of Orta Koi, and encamped in a grove of pear-trees. 
There was grass for our beasts, who were on the brink of 
starvation, and fowls and cucumbers for ourselves, who had 
been limited to bread and coffee for two days. But as one 
necessity was restored, another disappeared. We had smoked 
the last of our delicious Aleppo tobacco, and that which the 
villagers gave us was of very inferior quality. Nevertheless, 
the pipe which we smoked with them in the twilight, beside the 
marble fountain, promoted that peace of mind which is the 
sweetest preparative of slumber. 



THE LAND OF HARVEST. 



301 



Francois was determined to finish our journey to-day. He 
had a presentiment that we should reach Brousa, although I 
expected nothing of the kind. He called us long before the 
lovely pastoral valley in which we lay had a suspicion of the 
sun, but just in time to see the first rays strike the high head 
of Olympus. The long lines of snow blushed with an opaline 
radiance against the dark-blue of the morning sky, and all the 
forests and fields below lay still, and cool, and dewy, lapped in 
dreams yet unrecalled by the fading moon. I bathed my face 
in the cold well that perpetually poured over its full brim, 
drank the coffee which Francois had already prepared, sprang 
into the saddle, and began the last day of our long pilgrimage. 
The tent was folded, alas ! for the last time ; and now fare- 
well to the freedom of our wandering life ! Shall I ever feel 
it again ? 

The dew glistened on the chestnuts and the walnuts, on the 
wild grape-vines and wild roses, that shaded our road, as we fol- 
lowed the course of an Olympian stream through a charming 
dell, into the great plain below. Everywhere the same bounti- 
ful soil, the same superb orchards, the same ripe fields of wheat 
and barley, and silver rye. The peasants were at work, men 
and women, cutting the grain with rude scythes, binding it into 
sheaves, and stacking it in the fields. As we rode over the 
plain, the boys came running out to us with handfuls of grain, 
saluting us from afar, bidding us welcome as pilgrims, wishing 
us as many years of prosperity as there were kernels in their 
sheaves, and kissing the hands that gave them the harvest-toll. 
The whole landscape had an air of plenty, peace, and content- 
ment. The people all greeted us cordially; and once a Mevlevi 
Dervish and a stately Turk, riding in company, saluted me so 



308 



THE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN. 



respectfully, stopping to speak with me, that 1 quite regretted 
being obliged to assume an air of dignified reserve, and ride 
away from them. 

Ere long, we saw the two white minarets of Aineghiol, 
above the line of orchards in front of us, and, in three hours 
after starting, reached the place. It is a small town, not par- 
ticularly clean, but with brisk-looking bazaars. In one of the 
houses, I saw half-a-dozen pairs of superb antlers, the spoils 
of Olympian stags. The bazaar is covered with a trellised 
roof, overgrown with grape-vines, which hang enormous bunches 
of young grapes over the shop-boards. We were cheered by 
the news that Brousa was only eight hours distant, and I now 
began to hope that we might reach it. We jogged on as fast 
as we could urge our weary horses, passed another belt of 
orchard land, paid more harvest-tolls to the reapers, and com- 
menced ascending a chain of low hills which divides the plain 
of Aineghiol from that of Brousa. 

At a fountain called the 1 '* mid-day konnak," we met some 
travellers coming from Brousa, who informed us that we could 
get there by the time of asser prayer. Rounding the north- 
eastern base of Olympus, we now saw before us the long head- 
land which forms his south-western extremity. A storm was 
arising from the sea of Marmora, and heavy white clouds set- 
tled on the topmost summits of the mountain. The wind began 
to blow fresh and cool, and when we had reached a height 
overlooking the deep valley, in the bottom of which lies the 
picturesque village of Ak-su, there were long showery lines 
coming up from the sea, and a filmy sheet of gray rain 
descended between us and Olympus, throwing his vast bulk far 
into the background. At Ak-su, the first shower met us, pour- 



THE PLAIN OF BROUSA, 



309 



ing so fast and thick that we were obliged to put on our capotes, 
and halt under a walnut-tree for shelter. But it soon passed 
over, laying the dust, for the time, and making the air sweet 
and cool. 

We pushed forward over heights covered with young forests 
of oak, which are protected by the government, in order that 
they may furnish ship-timber. On the right, we looked down 
into magnificent valleys, opening towards the west into the 
the plain of Brousa ; but when, in the middle of the afternoon, 
we reached the last height, and saw the great plain itself, the 
climax was attained. It was the crown of all that we had yet 
seen. This superb plain or valley, thirty miles long, by five in 
breadth, spread away to the westward, between the mighty 
mass of Olympus on the one side, and a range of lofty moun- 
tains on the other, the sides of which presented a charming 
mixture of forest and cultivated land. Olympus, covered with 
woods of beech and oak, towered to the clouds that concealed 
his snowy head ; and far in advance, under the last cape he 
threw out towards the sea, the hundred minarets of Brousa 
stretched in a white and glittering line, like the masts of a 
navy, whose hulls were buried in the leafy sea. No words can 
describe the beauty of the valley, the blending of the richest 
cultivation with the wildest natural luxuriance. Here were 
gardens and orchards ; there groves of superb chestnut-trees 
in blossom ; here, fields of golden grain or green pasture-land ; 
there, Arcadian thickets overgrown with clematis and wild 
rose ; here, lofty poplars growing beside the streams ; there, 
spiry cypresses looking down from the slopes : and all blended 
in one whole, so rich, so grand, so gorgeous, that I scarcely 
breathed when it first burst upon me. 



310 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



And now we descended to its level, and rode westward along 
the base of Olympus, grandest of Asian mountains. This 
after-storm view, although his head was shrouded, was sublime. 
His base is a vast sloping terrace, leagues in length, resem- 
bling the flights of steps by which the ancient temples were 
approached. From this foundation rise four mighty pyramids, 
two thousand feet in height, and completely mantled with 
forests. They are very nearly regular in their form and size, 
and are flanked to the east and west by headlands, or abut- 
ments, the slopes of which are longer and more gradual, as if 
to strengthen the great structure. Piled upon the four pyra- 
mids are others nearly as large, above whose green pinnacles 
appear still other and higher ones, bar^-and bleak, and cluster- 
ing thickly together, to uphold the great central dome of snow. 
Between the bases of the lowest, the streams which drain the 
gorges of the mountain issue forth, cutting their way through 
the foundation terrace, and widening their beds downwards to 
the plain, like the throats of bugles, where, in winter rains, 
they pour forth the hoarse, grand monotone of their Olympian 
music. These broad beds are now dry and stony tracts, dotted 
all over with clumps of dwarfed sycamores and threaded by 
the summer streams, shrunken in bulk, but still swift, cold, and 
clear as ever. 

We reached the city before night, and Francois is glad to 
find his presentiment fulfilled. We have safely passed through 
the untravelled heart of Asia Minor, and are now almost iu 
sight of Europe. The camp-fire is extinguished ; the tent is 
furled. We are no longer happy nomads, masquerading iu 
Moslem garb. We shall soon become prosaic Christians, and 
meekly hold out our wrists for the handcuffs of Civilization. 



THE TENT IS FURLED. 



811 



Ah, prate as we will of the progress of the race, we are but 
forging additional fetters, unless we preserve that healthy phy- 
sical development, those pure pleasures of mere animal exist- 
ence, which are now only to be found among our semi-barbaric 
brethren. Our progress is nervous, when it should be mus- 
cular. 



£12 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



CHAPTER XXY. 

BROUSA AXD THE SEA OF MARMORA. 

The City of Brousa— Return to Civilization— Storm— The Kalputcha Hammam — A Hot 
Bath— A Foretaste of Paradise— The Streets and Bazaars of Brousa— The Mosque— 
The Tombs of the Ottoman Sultans — Disappearance of the Katurgees — We start for 
Moudania— The Sea of Marmora— Moudania— Passport Difficulties— A Greek Caique 
— Breakfast with the Fishermen — A Torrid Voyage — The Princes' Islands — Prinkipo-- 
Distant Tiew of Constantinople — We enter the G-olden Horn. 

11 And we glode fast o'er a pellucid plain 
Of waters, azure with the noontide ray. 
Ethereal mountains shone around — a fane 
Stood in the midst, beyond green isles which lay 
On the blue, sunny deep, resplendent far away." 

Shelley. 

Constantinople, Monday, July 12, 1851 

Before entering Brousa, we passed the whole length of the 
town, which is built on the side of Olympus, and on three 
bluffs or spurs which project from it. The situation is more 
picturesque than that of Damascus, and from the remarkable 
number of its white domes and minarets, shooting upward from 
the groves of chestnut, walnut, and cypress-trees, the city is 
even more beautiful. There are large mosques on all the most 
prominent points, and, near the centre of the city, the ruins of 
an ancient castle, built upon a crag. The place, as we rode 
along, presented a shifting diorama of delightful views. The 
hotel is at the extreme western end of the city, not far from its 



RETURN TO CIVILIZATION STORM. 



313 



celebrated hot baths. It is a new building, in European style, 
and being built high on the slope, commands one of the most 
glorious prospects I ever enjoyed from windows made with 
hands. What a comfort it was to go up stairs into a clean, 
bright, cheerful room ; to drop at full length on a broad divan ; 
to eat a Christian meal ; to smoke a narghileh of the softest 
Persian tobacco ; and finally, most exquisite of all luxuries, to 
creep between cool, clean sheets, on a curtained bed, and find 
it impossible to sleep on account of the delicious novelty of the 
sensation ! 

At night, another storm came up from the Sea of Marmora. 
Tremendous peals of thunder echoed in the gorges of Olympus 
and sharp, broad flashes of lightning gave us blinding glimpses 
of the glorious plain below. The rain fell in heavy showers, 
but our tent-life was just closed, and we sat securely at our 
windows and enjoyed the sublime scene. 

The sun, rising over the distant mountains of Isnik, shone 
full in my face, awaking me to a morning view of the valley, 
which, freshened by the night's thunder-storm, shone wonder- 
fully bright and clear. - After coffee, we went to see the baths, 
which are on the side of the mountain, a mile from the hotel. 
The finest one, called the Kalputcha Hammam, is at the base 
of the hill. The entrance hall is very large, and covered by two 
lofty domes. In the centre is a large marble urn-shaped foun- 
tain, pouring out an abundant flood of cold water. Out of 
this, we passed into an immense rotunda, filled with steam and 
traversed by long pencils of light, falling from holes in the roof. 
% A small but very beautiful marble fountain cast up a jet of cold 
water in the centre. Beyond this was still another hall, of the 
same size, but with a circular basin, twenty-five feet in diame- 

14 



314 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



ter, in the centre. The floor was marble mosaic, and the basin 
was lined with brilliantly-colored tiles. It was kept constantly 
full by the natural hot streams of the mountain. There were 
a number of persons in the pool, but the atmosphere was so 
hot that we did not long disturb them by our curiosity. 

We then ascended to the Armenian bath, which is the 
neatest of all, but it was given up to the women, and we were 
therefore obliged to go to a Turkish one adjoining. The room 
into which we were taken was so hot that a violent perspira- 
tion immediately broke out all over my body, and by the time 
the delleks were ready to rasp me, I was as limp as a wet towel, 
and as plastic as a piece of putty. The man who took me was 
sweated away almost to nothing ; his very bones appeared to 
have become soft and pliable. The water was slightly sulphu- 
reous, and the pailfuls which he dashed over my head were so 
hot that they produced the effect of a chill — a violent nervous 
shudder. The temperature of the springs is 180° Fahrenheit, 
and I suppose the tank into which he afterwards plunged me 
must have been nearly up to the mark. When, at last, I was 
laid on the couch, my body was so parboiled that I perspired 
at all pores for full an hour — a feeling too warm and unpleasant 
at first, but presently merging into a mood which was wholly 
rapturous and heavenly. I was like a soft white cloud, that 
rests all of a summer afternoon on the peak of a distant moun- 
tain. I felt the couch on which I lay no more than the cloud 
might feel the cliffs on which it lingers so airily. I saw 
nothing but peaceful, glorious sights ; spaces of clear blue 
sky ; stretches of quiet lawns ; lovely valleys threaded by the 
gentlest of streams ; azure lakes, unruffled by a breath ; 
calms far out on mid-ocean, and Alpine peaks bathed in the 



THE STREETS OF BROUSA, 



315 



flush of an autumnal sunset. My mind retraced all our jour- 
ney from Aleppo, and there was a halo over eyery spot I had 
visited. I dwelt with rapture on the piny hills of Phrygia, on 
the gorges of Taurus, on the beechen solitudes of Olympus. 
Would to heaven that I might describe those scenes as I then 
felt them ! All was revealed to me : the heart of Nature lay 
bare, and I read the meaning and knew the inspiration of her 
every mood. Then, as my frame grew cooler, and the fragrant 
clouds of the narghileh, which had helped my dreams, dimin- 
ished, I was like that same summer cloud, when it feels a 
gentle breeze and is lifted above the hills, floating along inde- 
pendent of Earth, but for its shadow. 

Brousa is a very long, straggling place, extending for three 
or four miles along the side of the mountain, but presenting a 
very picturesque appearance from every point. The houses 
are nearly all three stories high, built of wood and unburn t 
bricks, and each story projects over the other, after the manner 
of German towns of the Middle Ages. They have not the 
hanging balconies which I have found so quaint and pleasing 
in Kiutahya. But, especially in the Greek quarter, many of 
them are plastered and painted of some bright color, which 
gives a gay, cheerful appearance to the streets. Besides, 
Brousa is the cleanest Turkish town I have seen. The moun- 
tain streams traverse most of the streets, and every heavy rain 
washes them out thoroughly. The whole city has a brisk, 
active air, and the workmen appear both more skilful and 
more industrious than in the other parts of Asia Minor. I 
noticed a great many workers in copper, iron, and wood, and 
an extensive manufactory of shoes and saddles. Brousa, how- 
ever, is principally noted for its silks, which are produced in 



816 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX. 



this valley, and others to the South and East, The manufac- 
tories are near the city. I looked over some of the fabrics in 
the bazaars, but found them nearly all imitations of European 
stuffs, woven in mixed silk and cotton, and even more costly 
than the silks of Damascus, 

We passed the whole length of the bazaars, and then, 
turning up one of the side streets on our right, crossed a 
deep ravine by a high stone bridge, Above and below 
us there were other bridges, under which a stream flowed 
down from the mountains. Thence we ascended the height, 
whereon stands the largest and one of the oldest mosques in 
Brousa. The position is remarkably fine, commanding a view 
of nearly the whole city and the plain below it. We entered 
the court-yard boldly, Francois taking the precaution to speak 
to me only in Arabic, as there was a Turk within. Mr. H. 
went to the fountain, washed his hands and face, but did not 
dare to swallow a drop, putting on a most dolorous expression 
of countenance, as if perishing with thirst. The mosque was 
a plain, square building, with a large dome and two minarets. 
The door was a rich and curious specimen of the stalactitic 
style, so frequent in Saracenic buildings. We peeped into the 
windows, and, although the mosque, which does not appear to 
be in common use, was darkened, saw enough to show that the 
interior was quite plain. 

Just above this edifice stands a large octagonal tomb, sur- 
mounted by a dome, and richly adorned with arabesque cornices 
and coatings of green and blue tiles. It stood in a small gar- 
den inclosure, and there was a sort of porter's lodge at the 
entrance. As we approached, an old gray-bearded man in a 
green turban came out, and, on Francois requesting entrance 



THE TOMBS OF THE OTTOMAN SULTANS. 



317 



for us, took a key and conducted us to the building. He had 
not the slightest idea of our being Christians. We took off 
our slippers before touching the lintel of the door, as the place 
was particularly holy. Then, throwing open the door, the old 
man lingered a few moments after we entered, so as not to dis- 
turb our prayers — a mark of great respect. We advanced to 
the edge of the parapet, turned our faces towards Mecca, and 
imitated the usual Mohammedan prayer on entering a mosque, 
by holding both arms outspread for a few moments, then bring- 
ing the hands together and bowing the face upon them. This 
done, we leisurely examined the building, and the old man was 
ready enough to satisfy our curiosity. It was a rich and ele- 
gant structure, lighted from the dome. The walls were lined 
with brilliant tiles, and had an elaborate cornice, with Arabic 
inscriptions in gold. The floor was covered with a carpet, 
whereon stood eight or ten ancient coffins, surrounding a larger 
one which occupied a raised platform in the centre. They were 
all of wood, heavily carved, and many of them entirely covered 
with gilded inscriptions. These, according to the old man, 
were the coffins of the Ottoman Sultans, who had reigned at 
Brousa previous to the taking of Constantinople, with some 
members of their families. There were four Sultans, among 
whom were Mahomet I., and a certain Achmet. Orchan, the 
founder of the Ottoman dynasty, is buried somewhere in 
Brousa, and the great central coffin may have been his. Fran- 
cois and I talked entirely in Arabic, and the old man asked 
" Who are these Hadjis V whereupon F. immediately answered : 
4 'They are Effendis from Baghdad." 

We had intended making the ascent of Olympus, but the 
summit was too thickly covered with clouds. On the morning 



318 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



of the second day, therefore, we determined to take up the line 
of march for Constantinople. The last scene of our strange, 
eventful history with the katurgees had just transpired, by 
their deserting us, being two hundred piastres in our debt. 
They left their khan on the afternoon after our arrival, ostensi- 
bly for the purpose of taking their beasts out to pasture, and 
were never heard of more. We let them go, thankful that 
they had not played the trick sooner. We engaged fresh 
horses for Moudania, on the Sea of Marmora, and dispatched 
Francis in advance, to procure a caique for Constantinople, 
while we waited to have our passports signed. But after 
waiting an hour, as there was no appearance of the precious 
documents, we started the baggage also, under the charge of a 
surroudjee, and remained alone. Another hour passed by, and 
yet another, and the Bey was still occupied in sleeping off his 
hunger. Mr. Harrison, in desperation, went to the office, and 
after some delay, received the passports with a vise, but not, as 
we afterwards discovered, the necessary one. 

It was four o'clock by the time we left Brousa. Our horses 
were stiff, clumsy pack-beasts ; but, by dint of whips and the 
sharp shovel-stirrups, we forced them into a trot and made 
them keep it. The road was well travelled, and by asking 
everybody we met: "Bou yol Moudania yedermi V ("Is this 
the way to Moudania ?"), we had no difficulty in finding it. 
The plain in many places is marshy, and traversed by several 
streams. A low range of hills stretches across, and nearly 
closes it, the united waters finding their outlet by a narrow 
valley to the north. From the top of the hill we had a grand 
view, looking back over the plain, with the long line of Brousa' s 
minarets gHttering through the interminable groves at the foot 



THE SEA OF MARMORA. 



319 



of the mountain. Olympus now showed a superb outline ; the 
clouds hung about his shoulders, but his snowy head was 
bare. Before us lay a broad, rich valley, extending in front to 
the mountains of Moudania. The country was well cultivated, 
with large farming establishments here and there. 

The sun was setting as we reached the summit ridge, where 
stood a little guard-house. As we rode over the crest, Olym- 
pus disappeared, and the Sea of Marmora lay before us, spread- 
ing out from the Gulf of Moudania, which was deep and blue 
among the hills, to an open line against the sunset. Beyond 
that misty line lay Europe, which I had not seen for nearly 
nine months, and the gulf below me was the bound of my tent 
and saddle life. But one hour more, old horse ! Have pati- 
ence with my Ethiopian thong, and the sharp corners of my 
Turkish stirrups : but one hour more, and I promise never to 
molest you again ! Our path was downward, and I marvel 
that the poor brute did not sometimes tumble headlong with 
me. He had been too long used to the pack, however, and his 
habits were as settled as a Turk's. We passed a beautiful 
village in a valley on the right, and came into olive groves and 
vineyards, as the dusk was creeping on. It was a lovely 
country of orchards and gardens, with fountains spouting by 
the wayside, and country houses perched on the steeps. In 
another hour, we reached the sea-shore. It was now nearly 
dark, but we could see the tower of Moudania some distance to 
the west. 

Still in a continual trot, we rode on ; and as we drew near, 
Mr. H. fired his gun to announce our approach. At the 
entrance of the town, we found the sourrudjee waiting to con- 
duct us. We clattered through the rough streets for what 



320 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



seemed an endless length of time. The Ramazan gun had jast 
fired, the minarets were illuminated, and the coffee-houses were 
filled with people. Finally, Francois, who had been almost in 
despair at our non-appearance, hailed us with the welcome 
news that he had engaged a caique, and that our baggage was 
already embarked. We only needed the vises of the authori- 
ties, in order to leave. He took our teskeres to get them, and 
we went upon the balcony of a coffee-house overhanging the 
sea, and smoked a narghileh. 

But here there was another history. The teskeres had not 
been properly vised at Brousa, and the Governor at first 
decided to send us back. Taking Francois, however, for a 
Turk, and finding that we had regularly passed quarantine, he 
signed them after a delay of an hour and a half, and we left 
the shore, weary, impatient, and wolfish with twelve hours* 
fasting. A cup of Brousan beer and a piece of bread brought 
us into a better mood, and I, who began to feel sick from the 
rolling of the caique, lay down on my bed, which was spread 
at the bottom, and found a kind of uneasy sleep. The sail was 
hoisted at first, to get us across the mouth of the Gulf, but 
soon the Greeks took to their oars. They were silent, how- 
ever, and though I only slept by fits, the night wore away 
rapidly. As the dawn was deepening, we ran into a little 
bight in the northern side of a promontory, where a picturesque 
Greek village stood at the foot of the mountains. The houses 
were of wood, with balconies overgrown with grape-vines, and 
there was a fountain of cold, excellent water on the very beach. 
Some Greek boatmen were smoking in the portico of a cafe on 
shore, and two fishermen, who had been out before dawn to 
catch sardines, were emptying their nets of the spoil. Our 



A TORRID VOYAGE. 



321 



men kindled a fire on the sand, and roasted us a dish of the 
fish. Some of the last night's hunger remained, and the meal 
had enough of that seasoning to be delicious. 

After giving our men an hour's rest, we set off for the 
Princes' Islands, which now appeared to the north, over the 
glassy plain of the sea. The Gulf of Iskmid, or Nicoinedia, 
opened away to the east, between two mountain headlands, 
The morning was intensely hot and sultry, and but for the pro- 
tection of an umbrella, we should have suffered greatly. There 
was a fiery blue vapor on the sea, and a thunder-cloud hid the 
shores of Thrace. Now and then came a light puff of wind, 
whereupon the men would ship the little mast, and crowd on 
an enormous quantity of sail. So, sailing and rowing, we 
neared the islands with the storm, but it advanced slowly 
enough to allow a sight of the mosques of St. Sophia and Sul- 
tan Achmed, gleaming far and white, like icebergs astray on a 
torrid sea. Another cloud was pouring its rain over the Asian 
shore, and we made haste to get to the landing at Prinkipo 
before it could reach us. Prom the south, the group of islands 
is not remarkable for beauty. Only four of them — Prinkipo, 
Chalki, Prote, and Antigone — are inhabited, the other five 
being merely barren rocks. 

There is an ancient convent on the summit of Prinkipo, 
where the Empress Irene — the contemporary of Charlemagne — 
is buried. The town is on the northern side of the island, and 
consists mostly of the summer residences of Greek and Arme- 
nian merchants. Many of these are large and stately houses, 
surrounded with handsome gardens. The streets are shaded 
with sycamores, and the number of coffee-houses shows that 
the place is much frequented on festal days. A company of 

14* 



322 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX. 



drunken Greeks were singing in violation of all metre and har- 
mony — a discord the more remarkable, since nothing could be 
more affectionate than their conduct towards each other. 
Nearly everybody was in Frank costume, and our Oriental 
habits, especially the red Tartar boots, attracted much obser- 
vation. I began to feel awkward and absurd, and longed to 
show myself a Christian once more. 

Leaving Prinkipo, we made for Constantinople, whose long 
array of marble domes and gilded spires gleamed like a far 
mirage over the waveless sea. It was too faint and distant 
and dazzling to be substantial. It was like one of those imagi- 
nary cities which we build in a cloud fused in the light of the 
setting sun. But as we neared the point of Chalcedon, running 
along the Asian shore, those airy piles gathered form and sub- 
stance. The pinnacles of the Seraglio shot up from the midst 
of cypress groves ; fantastic kiosks lined the shore ; the mina- 
rets of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmed rose more clearly against 
the sky; and a fleet of steamers and men-of-war, gay with flags, 
marked the entrance of the Golden Horn. We passed the 
little bay where St. Chrysostom was buried, the point of Chal- 
cedon, and now, looking up the renowned Bosphorus, saw the 
Maiden's Tower, opposite Scutari. An enormous pile, the 
barracks of the Anatolian soldiery, hangs over the high bank, 
and, as we row abreast of it, a fresh breeze comes up from the 
Sea of Marmora. The prow of the caique is turned across the 
stream, the sail is set, and we glide rapidly and noiselessly over 
the Bosphorus and into the Golden Horn, between the banks 
of the Frank and Moslem — Pera and Stamboul. Where on 
the earth shall we find a panorama more magnificent ? 

The air was filled with the shouts and noises of the great 



WE ENTER THE GOLDEN HORN. 



323 



Oriental metropolis ; the water was alive with caiques and 
little steamers ; and all the world of work and trade, which 
had grown almost to be a fable, welcomed us back to its rest- 
less heart. We threaded our rather perilous way over the 
populous waves, and landed in a throng of Custom-House 
officers and porters, on the wharf at Galata. 



324 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



CHAPTER XXVI, 

THE NIGHT OF PREDESTINATION. 

Constantinople in Ramazan— The Origin of the Fast— Nightly Illuminations— The Night 
of Predestination — The Golden Horn at Night — Illumination of the Shores — The 
Cannon of Constantinople — A Fiery Panorama — The Sultan's Caique — Close of the 
Celebration — A Turkish Mob — The Dancing Dervishes. 

" Skies full of Bplendid moons and shooting stars, 
And spouting exhalations, diamond fires." Keats. 

Constantinople, Wednesday, July 14, 1852. 

Constantinople, during the month of Ramazan, presents a 
very different aspect from Constantinople at other times. The 
city, it is true, is much more stern and serious during the day ; 
there is none of that gay, careless life of the Orient which you 
see in Smyrna, Cairo, and Damascus ; but when once the sun- 
set gun has fired, and the painful fast is at an end, the picture 
changes as if by magic. In all the outward symbols of their 
religion, the Mussulmans show their joy at being relieved from 
what they consider a sacred duty. During the day, it is quite 
a science to keep the appetite dormant, and the people not only 
abstain from eating and drinking, but as much as possible from 
the sight of food. In the bazaars, you see the famished mer- 
chants either sitting, propped back against their cushions, with 
the shawl about their stomachs, tightened so as to prevent the 
void under it from being so sensibly felt, or lying at full length 



THE ORIGIN OF RAMAZAN. 



325 



in the vain attempt to sleep. It is whispered here that many 
of the Turks will both eat and smoke, when there is no chance 
of detection, but no one would dare infringe the fast in public. 
Most of the mechanics and porters are Armenians, and the 
boatmen are Greeks. 

I have endeavored to ascertain the origin of this fast month 
The Syrian Christians say that it is a mere imitation of an 
incident which happened to Mahomet. The Prophet, having 
lost his camels, went day after day seeking them in the Desert, 
taking no nourishment from the time of his departure in the 
morning until his return at sunset. After having sought them 
thus daily, for the period of one entire moon, he found them, 
and in token of joy, gave a three days' feast to the tribe, now 
imitated in the festival of Bairam, which lasts for three days 
after the close of Ramazan. This reason, however, seems too 
trifling for such a rigid fast, and the Turkish tradition, that the 
Koran was sent down from heaven during this month, offers a 
more probable explanation. During the fast, the Mussulmans, 
as is quite natural, are much more fanatical than at other 
times. They are obliged to attend prayers at the mosque 
every night, or to have a mollah read the Koran to them at 
their own houses. All the prominent features of their religion 
are kept constantly before their eyes, and their natural aver- 
sion to the Giaour, or Infidel, is increased tenfold. I have' 
heard of several recent instances in which strangers have been 
exposed to insults and indignities. 

At dusk the minarets are illuminated ; a peal of cannon from 
the Arsenal, echoed by others from the forts along the Bos- 
phorus, relieves the suffering followers of the Prophet, and after 
an hour of silence, during which they are all at home, feast- • 



326 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



ing, the streets are filled with noisy crowds, and every coffee- 
shop is thronged. Every night there are illuminations along 
the water, which, added to the crowns of light sparkling on 
the hundred minarets and domes, give a magical effect to the 
night view of the city. Towards midnight there is again a 
season of comparative quiet, most of the inhabitants having 
retired to rest ; but, about two hours afterwards a watchman 
comes along with a big drum, which he beats lustily before the 
doors of the Faithful, in order to arouse them in time to eat 
again before the daylight-gun, which announces the commence- 
ment of another day's fast. 

Last night was the holiest night of Islam, being the twenty- 
fifth of the fast. It is called the Leilet-el-Kadr, or Night of the 
Predestination, the anniversary of that on which the Koran was 
miraculously communicated to the Prophet. On this night 
the Sultan, accompanied by his whole suite, attends service at 
the mosque, and on his return to the Seraglio, the Sultana 
Yalide, or Sultana-Mother, presents him with a virgin from one 
of the noble families of Constantinople. Formerly, St. Sophia 
was the theatre of this celebration, but this year the Sultan 
chose the Mosque of Tophaneh, which stands on the shore — 
probably as being nearer to his imperial palace at Beshiktashe, 
on the Bosphorus. I consider myself fortunate in having 
reached Constantinople in season to witness this ceremony, and 
the illumination of the Golden Horn, which accompanies it. 

After sunset the mosques crowning the hills of Stamboul, the 
mosque of Tophaneh, on this side of the water, and the Turkish 
men-of-war and steamers afloat at the mouth of the Golden 
Horn, began to blaze with more than their usual brilliance. 
The outlines of the minarets and d^mes were drawn in light on 



THE GOLDEN HORN AT NIGHT. 



327 



the deepening gloom, and the masts and yards of the vessel 
were hung with colored lanterns. From the battery in front 
of the mosque and arsenal of Tophaneh a blaze of intense light 
streamed out over the water, illuminating the gliding forms of 
a thousand caiques, and the dark hulls of the vessels lying at 
anchor. The water is the best place from which to view the 
illumination, and a party of us descended to the landing-place. 
The streets of Tophaneh were crowded with swarms of Turks, 
Greeks and Armenians. The square around the fountain was 
brilliantly lighted, and venders of sherbet and kaimak were 
ranged along the sidewalks. In the neighborhood of the 
mosque the crowd was so dense that we could with difficulty 
make our way through. All the open space next the water was 
filled up with the clumsy arabas, or carriages of the Turks, in 
which sat the wives of the Pashas and other dignitaries. 

We took a caique, and were soon pulled out into the midst of 
a multitude of other caiques, swarming all over the surface of 
the Golden Horn. The view from this point was strange, 
fantastic, yet inconceivably gorgeous. In front, three or four 
large Turkish frigates lay in the Bosphorus, their hulls and 
spars outlined in fire against the dark hills and distant twink- 
ling lights of Asia. Looking to the west, the shores of the 
Golden Horn were equally traced by the multitude of lamps 
that covered them, and on either side, the hills on which the 
city is built rose from the water — masses of dark buildings, 
dotted all over with shafts and domes of the most brilliant 
light. The gateway on Seraglio Point was illuminated, as well 
as the quay in front of the mosque of Tophaneh, all the can- 
nons of the battery being covered with lamps. The commonest 
objects shared in the splendor, even a large lever used for 



328 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN". 



hoisting goods being hung with lanterns from top to bottom. 
The mosque was a mass of light, and between the tall minarets 
flanking it, burned the inscription, in Arabic characters, "Long 
life to you, our Sovereign !" 

The discharge of a cannon announced the Sultan's departure 
from his palace, and immediately the guns on the frigates and 
the batteries on both shores took up the salute, till the grand 
echoes, filling the hollow throat of the Golden Horn, crashed 
from side to side, striking the hills of Scutari and the point of 
Chalcedon, and finally dying away among the summits of the 
Princes' Islands, out on the Sea of Marmora. The hulls of the 
frigates were now lighted up with intense chemical fires, and 
an abundance of rockets were spouted from their decks. A 
large Drummond light on Seraglio Point, and another at the 
Battery of Tophaneh, poured their rival streams across the 
Golden Horn, revealing the thousands of caiques jostling each 
other from shore to shore, and the endless variety of gay cos- 
tumes with which they were filled. The smoke of the cannon 
hanging in the air, increased the effect of this illumination, and 
became a screen of auroral brightness, through which the 
superb spectacle loomed with large and unreal features. It 
was a picture of air — a phantasmagoric spectacle, built of 
luminous vapor and meteoric fires, and hanging in the dark 
round of space. In spite of ourselves, we became eager and 
excited, half fearing that the whole pageant would dissolve the 
next moment, and leave no trace behind. 

Meanwhile, the cannon thundered from a dozen batteries, and 
the rockets burst into glittering rain over our heads. Grander 
discharges I never heard ; the earth shook and trembled under 
the mighty bursts of sound, and the reverberation which rat- 



ILLUMINATION OF THE SHORES. 



329 



tied along the hill of G-alata, broken by the scattered buildings 
into innumerable fragments of sound, resembled the crash of a 
thousand falling houses. The distant echoes from Asia and the 
islands in the sea filled up the pauses between the nearer peals, 
and we seemed to be in the midst of some great naval engage- 
ment. But now the caique of the Sultan is discerned, approach- 
ing from the Bosphorus. A signal is given, and a sunrise of 
intense rosy and golden radiance suddenly lights up the long 
arsenal and stately mosque of Tophaneh, plays over the tall 
buildings on the hill of Pera, and falls with a fainter lustre on 
the Genoese watch-tower that overlooks Galata. It . is impos- 
sible to describe the effect of this magical illumination. The 
mosque, with its taper minarets, its airy galleries, and its great 
central dome, is built of compact, transparent flame, and in the 
shifting of the red and yellow fires, seems to flicker and waver 
in the air. It is as lofty, and gorgeous, and unsubstantial as 
the cloudy palace in Cole's picture of " Youth." The long 
white front of the arsenal is fused in crimson heat, and burns 
against the dark as if it were one mass of living coal. And 
over all hangs the luminous canopy of smoke, redoubling its 
lustre on the waters of the Golden Horn, and mingling with 
' the phosphorescent gleams that play around the oars of the 
caiques. 

A long barge, propelled by sixteen oars, glides around the 
dark corner of Tophaneh, and shoots into the clear, brilliant 
space in front of the mosque. It is not lighted, and passes 
with great swiftness towards the brilliant landing-place. There 
are several persons seated under a canopy in the stern, and we 
are trying to decide which is the Sultan, when a second boat, 
driven by twenty-four oarsmen, comes in sight. The men rise 



330 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



up at each stroke, and the long, sharp craft flies over the sur- 
face of the water, rather than forces its way through it. A 
gilded crown surmounts the long, curved prow, and a light 
though superb canopy covers the stern. Under this, we catch 
a glimpse of the Sultan and Grand Yizier, as they appear for an 
instant like black silhouettes against the burst of light on shore. 

After the Sultan had entered the mosque, the fires dimin- 
ished and the cannon ceased, though the illuminated masts, 
minarets and gateways still threw a brilliant gleam over the 
scene. After more than an hour spent in devotion, he again 
entered his caique and sped away to greet his new wife, amid a 
fresh discharge from the frigates and the batteries on both 
shores, and a new dawn of auroral splendor. We made haste 
to reach the landing-place, in order to avoid the crowd of 
caiques ; but, although we were among the first, we came near 
being precipitated into the water, in the struggle to get ashore. 
The market-place at Tophaneh was so crowded that nothing 
but main force brought us through, and some of our party had 
their pockets picked. A number of Turkish soldiers and police- 
men were mixed up in the melee, and they were not sparing of 
blows when they came in contact with a Giaour. In making 
my way through, I found that a collision with one of the sol- 
diers was inevitable, but I managed to plump against him with 
such force as to take the breath out of his body, and was out 
of his reach before he had recovered himself. I saw several 
Turkish women striking right and left in their endeavors to 
escape, and place their hands against the faces of those who 
opposed them, pushing them aside. This crowd was contrived 
by thieves, for the purpose of plunder, and, from what I havo 
since learned, must have been very successful. 



THE DANCING DERVISHES. 



331 



I visited to-day the College of the Mevlevi Dervishes at 
Pera, and witnessed their peculiar ceremoDies. They assemble 
in a large hall, where they take their seats in a semi-circle, 
facing the shekh. After going through several times with the 
usual Moslem prayer, they move in slow march around the 
room, while a choir in the gallery chants Arabic phrases in a 
manner very similar to the mass in Catholic churches. I could 
distiuguish the sentences " God is great," " Praise be to God," 
and other similar ejaculations. The chant was accompanied 
with a drum and flute, and had not lasted long before the Der- 
vishes set themselves in a rotary motion, spinning slowly around 
the shekh, who stood in the centre. They stretched both arms 
out, dropped their heads on one side, and glided around with a 
steady, regular motion, their long white gowns spread out and 
floating on the air. Their steps were very similar to those of 
the modern waltz, which, it is possible, may have been derived 
from the dance of the Mevlevis. Baron Yon Hammer finds 
in this ceremony an imitation of the dance of the spheres, in 
the ancient Samothracian Mysteries ; but I see no reason to 
go so far back for its origin. The dance lasted for about 
twenty minutes, and the Dervishes appeared very much 
exhausted at the close, as they are obliged to observe the fast 
very strictly. 



332 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE SOLEMNITIES OF B AIR AM 

The Appearance of the New Moon — The Festival of Bairam — The Interior of the 
Seraglio— The Pomp of the Sultan's Court— Reschid Pasha— The Sultan's Dwarf- 
Arabian Stallions— The Imperial Guard — Appearance of the Sultan — The Inner Court 
—Return of the Procession — The Sultan on his Throne — The Homage of the Pashas 
— An Oriental Picture — Kissing the Scarf — The Shekh el-Islam — The Descendant of 
the Caliphs — Bairam Commences. 

Constantinople, Monday, July 19, 1852. 

Saturday was the last day of the fast-month of Ramazan, and 
yesterday the celebration of the solemn festival of Bairam 
took place. The moon changed on Friday morning at 11 
o'clock, but as the Turks have no faith in astronomy, and do 
not believe the moon has actually changed until they see it, all 
good Mussulmen were obliged to fast an additional day. Had 
Saturday been cloudy, and the new moon invisible, I am not 
sure but the fast would have been still further prolonged. A 
good look-out was kept, however, and about four o'clock on 
Saturday afternoon some sharp eyes saw the young crescent 
above the sun. There is a hill near Gerulik. on the Gulf of 
Moudania, about fifty miles from here, whence the Turks 
believe the new moon can be first seen. The families who live 
on this hill are exempted from taxation, in consideration of 
their keeping a watch for the moon, at the close of Rarnazan. 



THE FESTIVAL OF BAIRAM\ 



833 



A series of signals, from hill to hill, is in readiness, and the 
news is transmitted to Constantinople in a very short time. 
Then, when the muezzin proclaims the asser, or prayer two 
hours before sunset, he proclaims also the close of Ramazan. 
All the batteries fire a salute, and the big guns along the 
water announce the joyful news to all parts of the city. The 
forts on the Bosphorus take up the tale, and both shores, from 
the Black Sea to the Propontis, shake with the burden of 
their rejoicing. At night the mosques are illuminated for the 
last time, for it is only during Ramazan that they are lighted, 
or open for night service. 

After Ramazan, comes the festival of B air am, which lasts 
three days, and is a season of unbounded rejoicing, The 
bazaars are closed, no Turk does any work, but all, clothed in 
their best dresses, or in an entire new suit if they can afford it, 
pass the time in feasting, in paying visits, or in making excur- 
sions to the shores of the Bosphorus, or other favorite spots 
around Constantinople. The festival is inaugurated by a 
solemn state ceremony, at the Seraglio and the mosque of 
Sultan Achmed, whither the Sultan goes in procession, accom- 
panied by all the officers of the Government. This is the last 
remaining pageant which has been spared to the Ottoman 
monarchs by the rigorous reforming measures of Sultan Mah- 
moud, and shorn as it is of much of its former splendor, it 
probably surpasses in brilliant effect any spectacle which any 
other European Court can present, The ceremonies which take 
place inside of the Seraglio were, until within three or four 
years, prohibited to Frank eyes, and travellers were obliged to 
content themselves with a view of the procession, as it passed 
to the mosque. Through the kindness of Mr. Brown, of the 



334 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



American Embassy, I was enabled to witness the entire solem- 
nity, in all its details. 

As the procession leaves the Seraglio at sunrise, we rose with 
the first streak of dawn, descended to Tophaneh, and crossed 
to Seraglio Point, where the cavass of the Embassy was in 
waiting for us. He conducted us through the guards, into the 
garden of the Seraglio, and up the hill to the Palace. The 
Capuclan Pasha, or Lord High Admiral, had just arrived in a 
splendid caique, and pranced up the hill before us on a magni- 
ficent stallion, whose trappings blazed with jewels and gold 
lace. The rich uniforms of the different officers of the army 
and marine glittered far and near under the dense shadows of 
the cypress trees, and down the dark alleys where the morning 
twilight had not penetrated. We were ushered into the great 
outer court-yard of the Seraglio, leading to the Sublime Porte 
A double row of marines, in scarlet jackets and white 
trowsers, extended from one gate to the other, and a very 
excellent brass band played " Suoni la tromba " with much 
spirit. The groups of Pashas and other officers of high rank, 
with their attendants, gave the scene a brilliant character of 
festivity. The costumes, except those of the secretaries and 
servants, were after the European model, but covered with a 
lavish profusion of gold lace. The horses were all of the 
choicest Eastern breeds, and the broad housings of their sad- 
dles of blue, green, purple, and crimson cloth, were enriched 
with gold lace, rubies, emeralds and turquoises. 

The cavass took us into a chamber near the gate, and com- 
manding a view of the whole court. There we found Mr. 
Brown and his lady, with several officers from the XJ. S. 
steamer San Jacinto. At this moment the sun, appearing 



THE PROCESSION TO THE MOSQUE. 



335 



above the hill of Bulgaria, behind Scutari, threw his earliest 
rajs upon the gilded pinnacles of the Seraglio. The commo- 
tion in the long court-yard below increased. The marines were 
formed into exact line, the horses of the officers clattered on 
the rough pavement as they dashed about to expedite the 
arrangements, the crowd pressed closer to the line of the pro- 
cession, and in five minutes the grand pageant was set in 
motion. As the first Pasha made his appearance under the 
dark archway of the interior gate, the band struck up the 
Marseillaise (which is a favorite air among the Turks), and the 
soldiers presented arms. The court-yard was near two hun- 
dred yards long, and the line of Pashas, each surrounded with 
the officers of his staff, made a most dazzling show. The lowest 
in rank came first. I cannot recollect the precise order, nor the 
names of ail of them, which, in fact, are of little consequence, 
while power and place are such uncertain matters in Turkey. 

Each Pasha wore the red fez on his head, a frock-coat of 
blue cloth, the breast of which was entirely covered with gold 
lace, while a broad band of the same decorated the skirts, and 
white pantaloons. One of the Ministers, Mehemet Ali Pasha, 
the brother-in-law of the Sultan, was formerly a cooper's 
apprentice, but taken, when a boy, by the late Sultan Mah- 
moud, to be a playmate for his son, on account of his extraor- 
dinary beauty. Rescind Pasha, the Grand Vizier, is a man of 
about sixty years of age. He is frequently called Giaour, or 
Infidel, by the Turks, on account of his liberal policy, which 
has ^rnade him many enemies. The expression of his face 
denotes intelligence, but lacks the energy necessary to accom- 
plish great reforms. * His son, a boy of about seventeen, already 
possesses the rank of Pasha, and is affianced to the Sultan's 



336 



THE LANDS CF TH£ SARACEN. 



daughter, a child of ten or twelve years old. He is a fat ; 
handsome youth, with a sprightly face, and acted his part in 
the ceremonies with a nonchalance whiclr'made him appear 
graceful beside his stiff, dignified eiders. 

After the Pashas came the entire household of the Sultan, 
including even his eunuchs, cooks, and constables. The Kislar 
Aga, or Chief Eunuch, a tali African in resplendent costume, 
is one of the most important personages connected with the 
Court. The Sultan's favorite dwarf, a little man about forty 
years old and three feet high, bestrode his horse with as conse- 
quential an air as any of them. A few years ago, this man 
took a notion to marry, and applied to the Sultan for a wife. 
The latter gave him permission to go into his harem and take 
the one whom he could kiss. The dwarf, like all short men, 
was ambitious to have a long wife. While the Sultan's five hun- 
dred women, who knew the terms according to which the dwarf 
was permitted to choose, were laughing at the amorous man- 
nikin, he went up to one of the tallest and handsomest of them, 
and struck her a sudden blow on the stomach. She collapsed 
with the pain, and before she could recover he caught lier by the 
neck and gave her the dreaded kiss. The Sultan kept his word, 
and the tall beauty is now the mother of the dwarfs children. 

The procession grows more brilliant as it advances, and the 
profound inclination made by the soldiers at the further end of 
the court, announces the approach of the Sultan himself. First 
come three led horses, of the noblest Arabian blood — glorious 
creatures, worthy to represent 

" The horse that guide the golden eye of heaven, 
And snort the morning from their nostrils, 
Making their fiery gait above the glades." 



THE SULTAN. 



337 



Their eyes were more keen and lustrous than the diamonds 
which studded their head-stalls, and the wealth of emeralds, 
rubies, and sapphires that gleamed on their trappings would 
have bought the possessions of a German Prince. After them 
came the Sultan's body-guard, a company of tall, strong men, 
in crimson tunics and white trousers, with lofty plumes of pea- 
cock feathers in their hats. Some of them carried crests of 
green feathers, fastened upon long staves. These superb horses 
and showy guards are the only relics of that barbaric pomp 
which characterized all State processions during the time of the 
Janissaries. In the centre of a hollow square of plume-bearing 
guards rode Abdul-Medjid himself, on a snow-white steed. 
Every one bowed profoundly as he passed along, but he neither 
looked to the right or left, nor made the slightest acknowledg- 
ment of the salutations. Turkish etiquette exacts the most rigid 
indifference on the part of the Sovereign, who, on all public 
occasion's, never makes a greeting. Formerly, before the change 
pf costume, the Sultan's turbans were carried before him in the 
processions, and the servants who bore them inclined them to one 
side and the other, in answer to the salutations of the crowd. 

Sultan Abdul-Medjid is a man of about thirty, though he 
looks older. He has a mild, amiable, weak face, dark" eyes, a 
prominent noae, and short, dark brown mustaches and beard. 
His face is thin, and wrinkles are already making their appear- 
ance about the corners of his mouth and eyes. But for a cer- 
tain vacancy of expression, he would be called a handsome 
man. He sits on his horse with much ease and grace, though 
there is a slight stoop in his shoulders. His legs are crooked, 
owing to which cause he appears awkward when on his feet, 
though he wears a long cloak to conceal the deformity. Sen- 

15 

■ 



338 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

sual indulgence has weakened a constitution not . naturally 
strong, and increased that mildness which has now become a 
defect in his character. He is not stern enough to be just, and 
his subjects are less fortunate under his easy rule than under 
the rod of his savage father, Mahmoud. He was dressed in a 
style of the utmost richness and elegance. He wore a red 
Turkish fez, with an immense rosette or brilliants, and a long, 
floating plume of bird-of-paradise feathers. The diamond in 
the centre of the rosette is of unusual size ; it was picked up 
some years ago in the Hippodrome, and probably belonged to 
the treasury of the Greek Emperors. The breast and collar 
of his coat were one mass of diamonds, and sparkled in the 
early sun with a thousand rainbow gleams. His mantle of 
dark-blue cloth hung to his knees, concealing the deformity of 
his legs. He wore white pantaloons, white kid gloves, and 
patent leather boots, thrust into his golden stirrups. 

A few officers of the Imperial household followed behind the 
Sultan, and the procession then terminated. Including the 
soldiers, it contained from two to three thousand persons. The 
marines lined the way to the mosque of Sultan Achmed, 
and a great crowd of spectators filled up the streets and the 
square of the Hippodrome. Coffee was served to us, after 
which we were all conducted into the inner court of the Serag- 
lio, to await the return of the cortege. This court is not more 
than half the size of the outer one, but is shaded with large 
sycamores, embellished with fountains, and surrounded with 
light and elegant galleries, in pure Saracenic style. The pic- 
ture which it presented was therefore far richer and more 
characteristic of the Orient than the outer court, where the 
architecture is almost wholly after Italian models. The portals 



THE SULTAN ON HIS THRONE, 



339 



at either end rested on slender pillars, over which projected 
broad eaves, decorated with elaborate carved and gilded work, 
and above all rose a dome, surmounted by the Crescent. On 
the right, the tall chimneys of the Imperial kitchens towered 
above the walls. The sycamores threw their broad, cool 
shadows over the court, and groups of servants, in gala dresses, 
loitered about the corridors. 

After waiting nearly half an hour, the sound of music and the 
appearance of the Sultan's body-guard proclaimed the return 
of the procession. It came in reversed order, headed by the 
Sultan, after whom followed the Grand Yizier and other Minis- 
ters of the Imperial Council, and the Pashas, each surrounded 
by his staff of officers. The Sultan dismounted at the entrance 
to the Seraglio, and disappeared through the door. He was 
absent for more than half an hour, during which time he 
received the congratulations of his family, his wives, and the 
principal personages of his household, all of whom came to kiss 
his feet. Meanwhile, the Pashas ranged themselves in a semi- 
circle around the arched and gilded portico. The servants of 
the Seraglio brought out a large Persian carpet, which they 
spread on -the marble pavement. The throne, a large square 
seat, richly carved and covered with gilding, was placed in the 
centre, and a dazzling piece of cloth-of-gold thrown over the 
back of it. When the Sultan re-appeared, he took his seat 
thereon, placing his feet on a small footstool. The ceremony 
of kissing his feet now commenced. The first who had this 
honor was the Chief of the Emirs, an old man in a green robe, 
embroidered with pearls. He advanced to the throne, knelt, 
kissed the Sultan's patent-leather boot, and retired backward 
from the presence. 



340 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



The Ministers and Pashas followed in single file, and, after 
they had made the salutation, took their stations on the right 
hand of the throne. Most of them were fat, and their glitter- 
ing frock-coats were buttoned so tightly that they seemed ready 
to burst. It required a great effort for them to rise from their 
knees. During all this time, the band was playing operatic 
airs, and as each Pasha knelt, a marshal, or master of ceremo- 
nies, with a silver wand, gave the signal to the Imperial Guard, 
who shouted at the top of their voices : " Prosperity to our 
Sovereign ! May he live a thousand years !" This part of the 
ceremony was really grand and imposing. All the adjuncts 
were in keeping : the portico, wrought in rich arabesque 
designs ; the swelling domes and sunlit crescents above ; the 
sycamores and cypresses shading the court ; the red tunics and 
peacock plumes of the guard ; the monarch himself, radiant 
with jewels, as he sat in his chair of gold — all these features 
combined to form a stately picture of the lost Orient, and for 
the time Abdul-Medjid seemed the true representative of 
Caliph Haroun Al-Rasehid. 

After the Pashas had finished, the inferior officers of the 
Army, Xavy, and Civil Service followed, to the number of at 
least a thousand. They were not considered worthy to touch 
the Sultan's person, but kissed his golden scarf, which was held 
out to them by a Pasha, who stood on the left of the throne. 
The Grand Yizier had his place on the right, and the Chief of 
the Eunuchs stood behind him. The kissing of the scarf occu- 
pied an hour. The Sultan sat quietly during all this time, his 
face expressing a total indifference to all that was going on. 
The most skilful physiognomist could not have found in it the 
shadow of an expression. If this was the etiquette prescribed 



THE SHEKH EL-ISLAM. 



341 



for him, he certainly acted it with marvellous skill and 
success. 

The long line of officers at length came to an end, and I 
fancied that the solemnities were now over ; but after a pause 
appeared the Shekh el- Islam, or High Priest of the Mahometan 
religion. His authority in religious matters transcends that of 
the Sultan, and is final and irrevocable. He was a very 
venerable man, of perhaps seventy-five years of age, and his 
tottering steps were supported by two mollahs. He was 
dressed in a long green robe, embroidered with gold and pearls, 
over which his white beard flowed below his waist. In his 
turban of white cambric was twisted a scarf of cloth-of-gold. 
He kissed the border of the Sultan's mantle, which salutation 
was also made by a long line of the chief priests of the mosques 
of Constantinople, who followed him. These priests were 
dressed in long robes of white, green, blue, and violet, many 
of them with collars of pearls and golden scarfs wound about 
their turbans, the rich fringes falling on their shoulders. They 
were grave, stately men, with long gray beards, and the wis- 
dom of age and study in their deep-set eyes. 

Among the last who came was the most important personage 
of all. This was the Governor of Mecca (as I believe he is 
called), the nearest descendant of the Prophet, and the succes- 
sor to the Caliphate, in case the family of Othman becomes 
extinct. Sultan Mahmoud, on his accession to the throne, was 
the last descendant of Orchan, the founder of the Ottoman 
Dynasty, the throne being inherited only by the male heirs. 
He left two sons, who are both living, Abdul-Medjid having 
departed from the practice of his predecessors, each of whom 
slew his brothers, in order to make his own sovereignty secure, 



342 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



He lias one son, Muzad, who is about ten years old, so that 
there are now three males of the family of Orchan. In case 
of their death, the Governor of Mecca would become Caliph, 
and the sovereignty would be established in his family. He is 
a swarthy Arab, of about fifty, with a bold, fierce face. He 
wore a superb dress of green, the sacred color, and was fol- 
lowed by his two sons, young men of twenty and twenty-two, 
As he advanced to the throne, and was about to kneel and kiss 
the Sultan's robe, the latter prevented him, and asked politely 
after his health — the highest mark of respect in his power to 
show. The old Arab's face gleamed with such a sudden gush 
of pride and satisfaction, that no flash of lightning could have 
illumined it more vividly. 

The sacred writers, or transcribers of the Koran, closed the 
procession, after which the Sultan rose and entered the Serag- 
lio. The crowd slowly dispersed, and in a few minutes the 
grand reports of the cannon on Seraglio Point announced the 
departure of the Sultan for his palace on the Bosphorus. The 
festival of Bairam was now fairly inaugurated, and all Stani- 
boul was given up to festivity. There was no Turk so poor 
that he did not in some sort share in the rejoicing. Our 
Fourth could scarcely show more flags, let off more big guns 
or send forth grea.er crowds of excursionists than' this Moslem 
holiday 



SOJOURN AT CONSTANTINOPLE. 



348 



CHAPTER XXVXIL 

THE MOSQUES OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 

Sojourn at Constantinople — Semi-European Character of the City — The Mosque— Pro- 
curing a Firman— The Seraglio— The Library— The Ancient Throne-Room— Admit- 
tance to St. Sophia — Magnificence of the Interior — The Marvellous Dome — The 
Mosque of Sultan Achmed — The Sulemanye — Great Conflagrations — Political Mean- 
ing of the Fires — Turkish Progress — Decay of the Ottoman Power. 

" Is that indeed Sophia's far-famed dome, 
Where first the Faith was led in triumph home, 
Like some high bride, with banner and bright sign, 
And melody, and flowers ?" Aubrey De Verk. 

Constantinople, Tuesday, August 8, 1852. 

The length of my stay in Constantinople has enabled me to 
visit many interesting spots in its vicinity, as well as to fami- 
liarize myself with the peculiar features of the great capital. 
I have seen the beautiful Bosphorus from steamers and cai- 
ques ; ridden up the valley of Buyukdere, and through the 
chestnut woods of Belgrade ; bathed in the Black Sea, under 
the lee of the Symplegades, where the marble altar to Apollo 
still invites an oblation from passing mariners ; walked over 
the flowery meadows beside the " Heavenly Waters of Asia 
galloped around the ivy-grown walls where Dandolo and Maho- 
met II. conquered, and the last of the Palseologi fell ; and 
dreamed away many an afternoon-hour under the funereal 
cypresses of Pera, and beside the Delphian tripod in the Hip- 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX, 



podrome. The historic interest of these spots is familiar to 
all, nor, with one exception, have their natural beauties been 
exaggerated by travellers. This exception is the village of 
Belgrade, over which Mary Montague went into raptures, and 
set the fashion for tourists ever since. I must confess to having 
been wofully disappointed. The village is a miserable cluster 
of rickety houses, on an open piece of barren land, surrounded 
by the forests, or rather thickets, which keep alive the springs 
that supply Constantinople with water. We reached there 
with appetites sharpened by our morning's ride, expecting to 
find at least a vender of Jcibabs (bits of fried meat) in so 
renowned a place ; but the only things to be had were raw salt 
mackerel, and bread which belonged to the primitive geological 
formation. 

The general features of Constantinople and the Bosphorus 
are so well known, that I am spared the dangerous task of 
painting scenes which have been colored by abler pencils. Yon 
Hammer, Lamartine, Willis, Miss Pardoe, Albert Smith, and 
thou, most inimitable Thackeray I have made Pera and Scutari, 
the Bazaars and Baths, the Seraglio and the Golden Horn, as 
familiar to our ears as Cornhill and Wall street. Besides, 
Constantinople is not the true Orient, which is to be found 
rather in Cairo, in Aleppo, and brightest and most vital, in 
Damascus. Here, we tread European soil : the Franks are 
fast crowding out the followers of the Prophet, and Stamboul 
itself, were its mosques and Seraglio removed, would differ little 
in outward appearance from a third-rate Italian town. The 
Sultan lives in a palace with a Grecian portico ; the pointed 
Saracenic arch, the arabesque sculptures, the latticed balconies, 
give place to clumsy imitations of Paliaclio, and every fire that 



THE MOSQUE. 



345 



sweeps away a recollection of the palmy times of Ottoman 
rule, sweeps it away forever. 

But the Mosque — that blossom of Oriental architecture, 
with its crowning domes, like the inverted bells of the lotus, 
and its reed-like minarets, its fountains and marble courts — can 
only perish with the faith it typifies. I, for one, rejoice that, 
so long as the religion of Islam exists (and yet, may its time 
be short !), no Christian model can shape its houses of worship. 
The minaret must still lift its airy tower for the muezzin ; the 
dome must rise like a gilded heaven above the prayers of the 
Faithful, with its starry lamps and emblazoned phrases ; the 
fountain must continue to pour its waters of purification. A 
reformation of the Moslem faith is impossible. When it begins 
to give way, the whole fabric must fall. Its ceremonies, as 
well as its creed, rest entirely on the recognition of Mahomet 
as the Prophet of God. However the Turks may change in 
other respects, in all that concerns their religion they must 
continue the same. 

Until within a few years, a visit to the mosques, especially 
the more sacred ones of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmed, was 
attended with much difficulty. Miss Pardoe, according to her 
own account, risked her life in order to see the interior of St. 
Sophia, which she effected in the disguise of a Turkish Effendi. 
I accomplished the same thing, a few days since, but without 
recourse to any such romantic expedient. Mr. Brown, the 
interpreter t of the Legation, procured a firman from the Grand 
Yizier, on behalf of the officers of the San Jacinto, and kindly 
invited me, with several other American and English travellers, 
to join the party. During the month of Ramazan, no firmans 
are given, and as at this time there are few travellers in Con- 

15 



346 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



stantinople, we should otherwise have been subjected to a heavy 
expense. The cost of a firman, including backsheesh to the 
priests and doorkeepers, is TOO piastres (about $33). 

We crossed the Golden Horn in caiques, and first visited the 
gardens and palaces on Seraglio Point. The Sultan at present 
resides in his summer palace of Beshiktashe, on the Bosphorus, 
and only occupies the Serai Bornou, as it is called, during the 
winter months. The Seraglio covers the extremity of the 
promontory on which Constantinople is built, and is nearly 
three miles in circuit. The scattered buildings erected by dif- 
ferent Sultans form in themselves a small city, whose domes 
and pointed turrets rise from amid groves of cypress and pine. 
The sea-wall is lined with kiosks, from whose cushioned win- 
dows there are the loveliest views of the European and Asian 
shores. The newer portion of the palace, where the Sultan 
now receives the ambassadors of foreign nations, shows the 
influence of European taste in its plan and decorations. It is 
by no means remarkable for splendor, and suffers by contrast 
with many of the private houses in Damascus and AlejDpo. 
The building is of wood, the wails ornamented with detestable 
frescoes by modern Greek artists, and except a small but 
splendid collection of arms, and some wonderful specimens of 
Arabic chirography, there is nothing to interest the visitor. 

In ascending to the ancient Seraglio, which was founded by 
Mahomet II., on the site of the palace of the Palaeologi, we 
passed the Column of Theodosius, a plain Corinthian shaft, 
about fifty feet high. The Seraglio is now occupied entirely 
by the servants and guards, and the greater part of it shows a 
neglect amounting almost to dilapidation. The Saracenic cor- 
ridors surrounding its courts are supported by pillars of mar- 



THE SERAGLIO. 



34? 



ble, granite, and porphyry, the spoils of the Christian capital. 
We were allowed to walk about at leisure, and inspect the dif- 
ferent compartments, except the library, which unfortunately 
was locked. This library was for a long time supposed to 
contain many lost treasures of ancient literature — among other 
things, the missing books of Livy — but the recent researches of 
Logothetos, the Prince of Samos, prove that there is little of 
value among its manuscripts. Before the door hangs a wooden 
globe, which is supposed to be efficacious in neutralizing the 
influence of the Evil Eye. There are many ancient altars and 
fragments of pillars scattered about the courts, and the Turks 
have even commenced making a collection of antiquities, which, 
with the exception of two immense sarcophagi of red porphyry, 
contains nothing of value. They show, however, one of the 
brazen heads of the Delphian tripod in the Hippodrome, which, 
they say, Mahomet the Conqueror struck off with a single blow 
of his sword, on entering Constantinople. 

The most interesting portion of the Seraglio is the ancient 
throne-room, now no longer used, but still guarded by a com- 
pany of white eunuchs. The throne is an immense, heavy 
bedstead, the posts of which are thickly incrusted with rubies, 
turquoises, emeralds, and sapphires. There is a funnel-shaped 
chimney-piece in the room, a master-work of Benevenuto Cel- 
lini. There, half a century ago, the foreign ambassadors 
were presented, after having been bathed, fed, and clothed with 
a rich mantle in the outer apartments. They were ushered 
into the imperial presence, supported by a Turkish official on 
either side, in order that they might show no signs of breaking 
down under the load of awe and reverence they were supposed 
to feel. In the outer Court, adjoining the Sublime Porte, is 



348 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



the Chapel of the Empress Irene, now converted into an 
armory, which, for its size, is the most tasteful and picturesque 
collection of weapons I have ever seen. It is especially rich in 
Saracenic armor, and contains many superb casques of inlaid 
gold. In a large glass case in the chancel, one sees the keys 
of some thirty or forty cities, with the date of their capture. 
It is not likely that another will ever be added to the list. 

TVe now passed out through the Sublime Porte, and direct- 
ed our steps to the famous Ay a Sophia — the temple dedicated 
by Justinian to the Divine Wisdom. The repairs made to the 
outer walls by the Turks, and the addition of the four mina- 
rets, have entirely changed the character of the building, with- 
out injuring its effect. As a Christian Church, it must have 
been less imposing than in its present form. A priest met us at 
the entrance, and after reading the firman with a very discon- 
tented face, informed us that we could not enter until the mid- 
day prayers were concluded. After taking off our shoes, how- 
ever, we were allowed to ascend to the galleries, whence we 
looked down on the bowing worshippers. Here the majesty 
of the renowned edifice, despoiled as it now is, bursts at once 
upon the eye. The wonderful flat dome, glittering with its 
golden mosaics, and the sacred jDhrase from the Koran : God 
is the Light of the Heavens and the Earth," swims in the air, 
one hundred and eighty feet above the marble pavement. On 
the eastern and western sides, it rests on two half domes, 
which again rise from or rest upon a group of three small half- 
domes, so that the entire roof of the mosque, unsupported by a 
pillar, seems to have been dropped from above on the walls, 
rather than to have been built up from them. Around the 
edifice run an upper and a lower gallery, which alone preserve 



TEE MOSQUE OF ST. SOPHIA. 



349 



the peculiarities of the Byzantine style. These galleries are 
supported by the most precious columns which ancient art 
could afford : among them eight shafts of green marble, from 
the Temple of Diana, at Ephesus ; eight of porphyry, from the 
Temple of the Sun, at Baalbek ; besides Egyptian granite from 
the shrines of Isis and Osiris, and Pentelican marble from the 
sanctuary of Pallas Athena. Almost the whole of the inte- 
rior has been covered with gilding, but time has softened its 
brilliancy, and the rich, subdued gleam of the walls is in per- 
fect harmony with the varied coloring of the ancient marbles. 

Under the dome, four Christian seraphim, executed in 
mosaic, have been allowed to remain, but the names of the four 
archangels of the Moslem faith are inscribed underneath. 
The bronze doors are still the same, the Turks having taken 
great pains to obliterate the crosses with which they were 
adorned. Around the centre of the dome, as on that of Sul- 
tan Achmed, may be read, in golden letters, and in all the 
intricacy of Arabic penmanship, the beautiful verse : — " God 
is the Light of the Heavens and the Earth. His wisdom is 
a light on the wall, in which burns a lamp covered with glass. 
The glass shines like a star, the lamp is lit with the oil of a 
blessed tree. No Eastern, no Western oil, it shines for who- 
ever wills. " After the prayers were over, and we had descend- 
ed to the floor of the mosque, I spent the rest of my time 
under the dome, fascinated by its marvellous lightness and 
beauty. The worshippers present looked at us with curiosity, 
but without ill-will ; and before we left, one of the priests camo 
slyly with some fragments of the ancient gilded mosaic, which 
he was heathen enough to sell, and we to buy. 

From St, Sophia we went to Sultan Achmed, which faces 



850 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the Hippodrome, and is one of the stateliest piles of Constanti- 
nople. It is avowedly an imitation of St. Sophia, and the 
Turks consider it a more wonderful work, because the dome is 
seven feet higher. It has six minarets, exceeding in this 
respect ail the mosques of Asia. The dome rests on four 
immense pillars, the bulk of which quite oppresses the light 
galleries running around the walls. This, and the uniform 
white color of the interior, impairs the effect which its bold 
style and imposing dimensions would otherwise produce. The 
outside view, with the group of domes swelling grandly above 
the rows of broad-armed sycamores, is much more satisfactory. 
In the tomb of Sultan Achmed, in one corner of the court, we 
saw his coffin, turban, sword, and jewelled harness. I had 
just been reading old Sandys' account of his visit to Constan- 
tinople, in 1610, during this Sultan's reign, and could omly 
think of him as Sandys represents him, in the title-page to his 
book, as a fat man, with bloated cheeks, in a long gown and big 
turban, and the words underneath : — 11 Achmed, sive Tyr annus P 
The other noted mosques of Constantinople are th^ Yeni 
Djami, or Mosque of the Sultana Valide, on the shore of the 
Golden Horn, at the end of the bridge to Gralata ; that of 
Sultan Bajazet ; of Mahomet II., the Conqueror, and of his 
son, Suleyman the Magnificent, whose superb mosque well 
deserves this title. I regret exceedingly that our time did not 
allow us to view the interior, for outwardly it not only sur- 
passes St. Sophia, and all other mosques in the city, but is 
undoubtedly one of the purest specimens of Oriental architecture 
extant. It stands on a broad terrace, on one of the seven hills 
of Stamboul, and its exquisitely proportioned domes and mina- 
rets shine as if crystalized in the blue of the air. I It is a type 



ORIENTAL ART. 



351 



of Oriental, as the Parthenon is of Grecian, and the Cologne 
Cathedral of Gothic art./ As I sa,w it the other night, lit by 
the flames of a conflagration, standing out reel and clear against 
the darkness, I felt inclined to place it on a level with either 
of those renowned structures. It is a product of the rich 
fancy of the East, splendidly ornate, and not without a high 
degree of symmetry — yet here the symmetry is that of orna- 
ment alone, and not the pure, absolute proportion of forms, 
which we find in Grecian Art. It requires a certain degree of 
enthusiasm — nay, a slight inebriation of the imaginative facul- 
ties — in order to feel the sentiment of this Oriental Architec- 
ture. If I rightly express all thLt it says to me, I touch the 
verge of rapsody. The East, in almost all its aspects, is so 
essentially poetic, that a true picture of it must be poetic in 
spirit, if not in form. X 

Constantinople has been terribly ravaged by fires, no less 
than fifteen having occurred during the past two weeks. 
Almost every night the sky has been reddened by burning 
houses, and the minarets of the seven hills lighted with an 
illumination brighter than that ol the Bairam. All the space 
from the Hippodrome to the Sea of Marmora has been swept 
away ; the lard, honey, and oil magazines on the Golden Horn, 
with the bazaars adjoining ; several large blocks on the hill of 
Galata, with the College of the Dancing Dervishes ; a part of 
Scutari, and the College of the Howling Dervishes, all have 
disappeared ; and to-day, the ruins of 3,700 houses, which were 
destroyed last night, stand smoking in the Greek quarter, 
behind the aqueduct of Valens. The entire amount of build- 
ings consumed in these two weeks is estimated at between Jive 
and six thousand ! The fire on the hill of Galata threatened to 



352 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



destroy a great part of the suburb of Pera. It came, sweep- 
ing over the brow of the hill, towards my hotel, turning the 
tall cypresses in the burial ground into shafts of angry flame, 
and eating away the crackling dwellings of hordes of hapless 
Turks. I was in bed, from a sudden attack of fever, but seeing 
the other guests packing up their effects and preparing to 
leave, I was obliged to do the same ; and this, in my weak 
state, brought on such a perspiration that the ailment left me. 
The officers of the United States steamer San Jacinto, and 
the Trench frigate Charlemagne, came to the rescue with their 
men and fire-engines, and the flames were finally quelled. The 
proceedings of the Americans, who cut holes in the roofs and 
played through them upon the fires within, were watched by 
the Turks with stupid amazement. " Mashallah V said a fat 
Bimbashi, as he stood sweltering in the heat; " The Franks 
are a wonderful people." 

To those initiated into the mysteries of Turkish politics, 
these fires are more than accidental ; they have a most weighty 
significance: They indicate either a general discontent with 
the existing state of affairs, or else a powerful plot against the 
Sultan and his Ministry. Setting fire to houses is, in fact, the 
Turkish method of holding an " indignation meeting/' and from 
the rate with which they are increasing, the political crisis 
must be near at hand. The Sultan, with his usual kindness of 
heart, has sent large quantities of tents and other supplies to 
the guiltless sufferers ; but no amount of kindness can soften 
the rancor of these Turkish intrigues. Rescind Pasha, the 
present Grand Vizier, and the leader of the party of Progress, 
is the person against whom this storm of opposition is now 
gathering. 



DECAY OF THIS OTTOMAN POWER, 



853 



In spite of all efforts, the Ottoman Power is rapidly wasting 
away. The life of the Orient is nerveless and effete ; the 
native strength of the race has died out, and all attempts to 
resuscitate it by the adoption of European institutions produce 
mere galvanic spasms, which leave it more exhausted than 
before. The rosy-colored accounts we have had of Turkish 
Progress are for the most part mere delusions. The Sultan is 
a well-meaning but weak man, and tyrannical through his very 
weakness. Had he strength enough to break through the 
meshes of falsehood and venality which are woven so close 
about him, he might accomplish some solid good. But Turkish 
rule, from his ministers down to the lowest cadi, is a monstrous 
system of deceit and corruption. These people have not the 
most remote conception of the true aims of government ; they 
only seek to enrich themselves and their parasites, at the 
expense of the people and the national treasury. When we 
add to this the conscript system, w r hich is draining the pro- 
vinces of their best Moslem subjects, to the advantage of the 
Christians and Jews, and the blindness of the Revenue Laws, 
which impose on domestic manufactures double the duty levied 
on foreign, products, it will easily be foreseen that the next 
half-century, or less, will completely drain the Turkish Empire 
of its last lingering energies. 

Already, in effect, Turkey exists only through the jealousy 
of the European nations. The treaty of Unkiar-iskelessi, in 
1833, threw her into the hands of Russia, although the influ- 
ence of England has of late years reigned almost exclusively 
in her councils. These are the two powers who are lowering 
at each other with sleepless eyes, in the Dardanelles and the 
Bosphorus, The people, and most probably the government, 



354 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



is strongly preposessed in favor of the English ; but the Rus- 
sian Bear has a heavy paw, and when he puts it into the scale, 
all other weights kick the beam. It will be a long and wary 
struggle, and no man can prophecy the result. The Turks are 
a people easy to govern, were even the imperfect laws, now in 
existence, fairly administered. They would thrive and improve 
under a better state of things ; but I cannot avoid the convic- 
tion that the regeneration of the East will never be effected at 
their Jiands. 



EMBARCATION. 



355 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

FAREWELL TO THE ORIENT MALTA. 

Embarcation— Farewell to the Orient— Leaving Constantinople— A Wreck— The Dar- 
danelles—Homeric Scenery— Smyrna Revisited— The Grecian Isles— Voyage to Malta 
— Detention— La Valetta— The Maltese— The Climate— A Boat for Sicily. 

" Farewell, ye mountains, 

By glory crowned ; 
Ye sacred fountains 

Of Gods renowned ; 
Ye woods and highlands, 

Where heroes dwell ; 
Ye seas and islands, 

Farewell ! Farewell !" Frithiof's Saga. 

In the Dardanelles, Saturday, August 7, 1852. 

At last, behold me fairly embarked for Christian Europe, to 
which I bade adieu in October last, eager for the unknown 
wonders of the Orient. Since then, nearly ten months have 
passed away, and those wonders are now familiar as every-day 
experiences. I set out, determined to be satisfied with no 
-slight taste of Eastern life, but to drain to the bottom its 
beaker of mingled sunshine and sleep. All this has been 
accomplished ; and if I have not wandered so far, nor enriched 
myself with such varied knowledge of the relics of ancient 
history, as I might have purposed or wished, I have at least 
learned to know the Turk and the Arab, been soothed by the 
patience inspired by their fatalism, and warmed by the gorge- 
ous gleams of fancy that animr'e their poetry and religion. 



358 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN*. 



These ten months of my life form an episode "which seems to 
belong to a separate existence. Just refined enough to be 
poetic, and just barbaric enough to be freed from all conven- 
tional fetters, it is as grateful to brain and soul, as an Eastern 
bath to the body. While I look forward, not without pleasure, 
to the luxuries and conveniences of Europe, I relinquish with a 
sigh the refreshing indolence of Asia. 

TTe have passed between the Castles of the two Continents, 
guarding the mouth of the Dardanelles, and are now entering 
the Grecian Sea. To-morrow, we shall touch, for a few 
hours, at Smyrna, and then turn westward, on the track of 
Ulysses and St. Paul. Farewell, then, perhaps forever, to the 
bright Orient ! Farewell to the gay gardens, the spicy bazaars, 
to the plash of fountains and the gleam of golden-tipped mina- 
rets ! Farewell to the perfect morns, the balmy twilights, the 
still heat of the blue noons, the splendor of moon and stars ! 
Farewell to the glare of the white crags, the tawny wastes of 
dead sand, the valleys of oleander, the hills of myrtle and 
spices ! Farewell to the bath, agent of purity and peace, and 
parent of delicious dreams — to the shebook, whose fragrant 
fumes are breathed from the lips of patience and contentment 
— to the narghileh. crowned with that blessed plant which 
grows in the gardens of Shiraz, while a fountain more delight- 
ful than those of Samarcand bubbles in its crystal bosom ! 
Farewell to the red cap and slippers, to the big turban, the 
flowing trousers, and the gaudy shawl — to squatting on broad 
divans, to sipping black coffee in acorn cups, to grave faces aud 
salaam akikooms, and touching of the lips and forehead ! Fare- 
well to the evening meal in the tent door, to the couch on the 
friendly earth, to the yells of the muleteers, to the deliberate 



THE SEA OF MARMORA. 



357 



inarches of the plodding horse, and the endless rocking of the 
dromedary that knoweth his master ! Farewell, finally, to 
annoyance without anger, delay without vexation, indolence 
without ennui, endurance without fatigue, appetite without 
intemperance, enjoyment without pall ! 

La Valetta, Malta, Saturday, August 14, 1S52. 

My last view of Stamboul w r as that of the mosques of St 
Sophia and Sultan Achmed, shining faintly in the moonlight, 
as we steamed down the Sea of Marmora. The Caire left at 
nine o'clock, freighted with the news of Rescind Pasha's 
deposition, and there were no signs of conflagration in all the 
long miles of the city that lay behind us. So we speculated 
no more on the exciting topics of the day, but went below and 
took a vapor bath in our berths ; for I need not assure you 
that the nights on the Mediterranean at this season are any- 
thing but chilly. And here I must note the fact, that the 
French steamers, while dearer than the Austrian, are more 
cramped in their accommodations, and filled with a set of most 
uncivil servants. The table is good, and this is the only thing 
to be commended. In all other respects, I prefer the Lloyd 
vessels. 

Early next morning, we passed the promontory of Cyzicus, 
and the Island of Marmora, the marble quarries of which give 
name to the sea. As we were approaching the entrance to the 
Dardanelles, we noticed an Austrian brig drifting in the cur- 
rent, the whiff of her flag indicating distress. Her rudder was 
entirely gone, and she was floating helplessly towards the Thra- 
cian coast. A boat was immediately lowered and a hawser 
carried to her bows, by which we towed her a short distance ; 



358 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



but our steam engine did not like this drudgery, and snapped 
the rope repeatedly, so that at last we were obliged to leave 
her to her fate. The lift we gave, however, had its effect, and 
by dexterous maneuvering with the sails, the captain brought 
her safely into the harbor of Gallipoli, where she dropped 
anchor beside us. 

Beyond Gallipoli, the Dardanelles contract, and the opposing 
continents rise into lofty and barren hills. In point of natural 
beauty, this strait is greatly inferior to the Bosphorus. It 
lacks the streams and wooded valleys which open upon the 
latter. The country is but partially cultivated, except around 
the town of Dardanelles, near the mouth of the strait. The 
site of the bridge of Xerxes is easily recognized, the conforma- 
tion of the different shores seconding the ' decision of anti- 
quarians. Here, too, are Sestos and Abyclos, of passionate 
and poetic memory. But as the sun dipped towards the sea, 
we passed out of the narrow gateway. On our left lay the 
plain of Troy, backed by the blue range of Mount Ida. The 
tumulus of Patroclus crowned a low bluff looking on the sea. 
On the right appeared the long, irregular island of Imbros, 
and the peaks of misty Samothrace over and beyond it. Tene- 
dos was before us. The red flush of sunset tinged the grand 
Homeric landscape, and lingered and lingered on the summit 
of Ida, as if loth to depart. I paced the deck until long after 
it was too dark to distinguish it any more. 

The next morning we dropped anchor in the harbor of 
Smyrna, where we remained five hours. I engaged a donkey, 
and rode out to the Caravan Bridge, where the Greek driver 
and I smoked narghilehs and drank coffee in the shade of the 
acacias. I contrasted my impressions with those of my first 



SMYRNA REVISITED. 



S59 



visit to Smyrna last October — my first glimpse of Oriental 
ground. Then, every dog barked at me, and all the horde of 
human creatures who prey upon innocent travellers ran at my 
heels, but now, with my brown face and Turkish aspect of 
grave indifference, I was suffered to pass as quietly as my 
donkey-driver himself. JSTor did the latter, nor the ready 
cafidji, who filled our pipes on the banks of the Meles, attempt 
to overcharge me — a sure sign that the Orient had left its seal 
on my face. Returning through the city, the same mishap 
befel me which travellers usually experience on their first 
arrival. My donkey, while dashing at full speed through a 
crowd of Smyrniotes in their Sunday dresses, slipped up in a 
little pool of black mud, and came down with a crash. I flew 
over his head and alighted firmly on my feet, but the spruce 
young Greeks, whose snowy f&stanelles were terribly bespat 
tered, came off much worse. The donkey shied back, levelled 
his ears and twisted his head on one side, awaiting a beating, 
but his bleeding legs saved him. 

We left at two o'clock, touched at Scio in the evening, and \ / 
the next morning at sunrise lay-to in the harbor of Syra. The 
Piraeus was only twelve hours distant ; but after my visitation 
of fever in Constantinople, I feared to encounter the pestilen- 
tial summer heats of Athens. Besides, I had reasons for 
hastening with all speed to Italy and Germany. At ten 
o'clock we weighed anchor again and steered southwards, 
between the groups of the Cyclades, under a cloudless sky and 
over a sea of the brightest blue. The days were endurable under 
the canvas awning of our quarter-deck, but the nights in our 
berths were sweat-baths, which left us so limp and exhausted 
that we were almost fit to vanish, like ghosts, at daybreak. 



360 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Our last glimpse of the Morea— Cape Matapan — faded away 
in the moonlight, and for two days we travelled westward over 
the burning sea. On the evening of the 11th, the long, low 
outline of Malta rose gradually against the last flush of sunset, 
and in two hours thereafter, we came to anchor in Quarantine 
Harbor. The quarantine for travellers returning from the 
East, which formerly varied from fourteen to twenty-one days, 
is now reduced to one day for those arriving from Greece or 
Turkey, and three days for those from Egypt and Syria. In 
our case, it was reduced to sixteen hours, by an official 
courtesy. I had intended proceeding directly to Naples; but by 
the contemptible trickery of the agents of the French steamers 
— a long history, which it is unnecessay to recapitulate — am left 
here to wait ten days for another steamer. It is enough to say 
that there are six other travellers at the same hotel, some 
coming from Constantinople, and some from Alexandria, in the 
same predicament. Because a single ticket to Xaples costs 
some thirty or forty francs less than by dividing the trip 
into two parts, the agents in those cities refuse to give tickets 
further than Malta to those who are not keen enough to see 
through the deception. I made every effort to obtain a second 
ticket in time to leave by the branch steamer for Italy, but in 
vain. 

La Valetta is, to my eyes, the most beautiful small city in the 
world. It is a jewel of a place; not a street but is full of pictu- 
resque effects, and all the look-outs, which you catch at every 
turn, let your eyes rest either upon one of the beautiful harbors 
on each side, or the distant horizon of the sea. The streets are 
so clean that you might eat your dinner off the pavement ; the 
white balconies and cornices of the houses, all cleanly cut in the 



LA VALETTA. 



361 



soft Maltese stone, stand out in intense relief against the sky, 
and from the manifold reflections and counter reflections, the 
shadows (where there are any) become a sort of milder light 
The steep sides of the promontory, on which the city is built, 
are turned into staircases, and it is an inexhaustible pastime to 
watch the groups, composed s of all nations who inhabit the 
shores of the Mediterranean, ascending and descending. The 
Auberges of the old Knights, the Palace of the Grand Master, 
the Church of St. John, and other relics of past time, but more 
especially the fortifications, invest the place with a romantic 
interest, and I suspect that, after Yenice and Granada, there 
are few cities where the Middle Ages have left more impressive 
traces of their history. 

The Maltese are contented, and appear to thrive under the 
English administration. They are a peculiar people, reminding 
me of the Arab even more than the Italian, while a certain 
rudeness in their build and motions suggests their Punic ances- 
try. Their language is a curious compound of Arabic and 
Italian, the former being the basis. I find that I can under- 
stand more than half that is said, the Arabic terminations being 
applied to Italian words. I believe it has never been success- 
ful);/ reduced to writing, and the restoration of pure Arabic 
has been proposed, with much reason, as preferable to an at- 
tempt to improve or refine it. Italian is the language used in 
the courts of justice and polite society, and is spoken here with 
much more purity than either in Naples or Sicily. 

The heat has been so great since I landed that I have not 
ventured outside of the city, except last evening to an ama- 
teur theatre, got up by the non-commissioned officers and pri- 
vates in the garrison. The performances were quite tolerable, 

16 



362 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



except a love-sick young damsel who spoke with a rough mascu- 
line voice, and made long strides across the stage when she rushed 
into her lover's arms. I am at a loss to account for the exhaust- 
ing character of the heat. The thermometer shows 90° by day, 
and 80° to 85° by night — a much lower temperature than I 
have found quite comfortable in Africa and Syria. In the 
Desert 100° in the shade is rather bracing than otherwise ; 
here, 90° renders all exercise, more severe than smoking a pipe, 
impossible. Even in a state of complete inertia, a shirt-collar 
will fall starchless in five minutes. 

Rather than waste eight more days in this glimmering half- 
existence, I have taken passage in a Maltese speronara, which 
sails this evening for Catania, in Sicily, where the grand festi- 
val of St. Agatha, which takes place once in a hundred years, 
will be celebrated next week. The trip promises a new expe- 
rience, and I shall get a taste, slight though it be, of the golden 
Trinacria of the ancients. Perhaps, after all, this delay which 
so vexes me (bear in mind, I am no longer in the Orient !) may 
be meant solely for my good. At least, Mr. Winthrop, our 
Consul here, who has been exceedingly kind and courteous to me, 
thinks it a rare good fortune that I shall see the Catanian 
festa. 



DEPARTURE FROM MALTA, 



363 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE FESTIVAL OF ST. AGATHA. 

Departure i rom Malta — The Speronara — Our Fellow-Passengers — The First Night on 
Board — Sicily — Scarcity of Provisions — Beating in the Calabrian Channel — The 
Fourth Morning — The G-ulf of Catania — A Sicilian Landscape — The Anchorage — The 
Suspected List — The Streets of Catania — Biography of St. Agatha— The Illuminations 
— The Procession of the Yeil — The Biscari Palace— The Antiquities of Catania — The 
Convent of St. Nicola. 

" The morn is full of holiday, loud bells 
With rival clamors ring from every spire ; 
Cunningly-stationed music dies and swells 
In echoing places ; when the winds respire, 
Light flags stream out liko gauzy tongues of fire." — Keats. 

Catania, Sicily, Friday, August 20, 1852. 

I went on board the speronara in the harbor of La Yaletta at 
the appointed hour (5 p. m.), and found the remaining sixteen 
passengers already embarked. The captain made his appear- 
ance an hour later, with our bill of health and passports, and 
as the sun went down behind the brown hills of the island, we 
passed the wave-worn rocks of the promontory, dividing the 
two harbors, and slowly moved off towards Sicily. 

The Maltese speronara resembles the ancient Roman galley 
more than any modern craft. It has the same high, curved 
poop and stern, the same short masts and broad, square sails. 
The hull is too broad for speed, but this adds to the security 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



of the vessel in a gale. With a fair wind, it rarely makes more 
than eight knots an hour, and in a calm, the sailors (if not too 
lazy) propel it forward with six long oars. The hull is painted 
in a fanciful style, generally blue, red, green and white, with 
bright red masts. The bulwarks are low, and the deck of such 
a convexity that it is quite impossible to walk it in a heavy sea. 
Such was the vessel to which I found myself consigned. It was 
not more than fifty feet long, and of less capacity than a Nile 
dahahiyeh. There was a sort of deck cabin, or crib, with two 
berths, but most of the passengers slept in the hold. For a 
passage to Catania I was obliged to pay forty francs, the 
owner swearing that this was the regular price ; but, as I 
afterwards discovered, the Maltese only paid thirty-six francs 
for the whole trip. However, the Captain tried to make up 
the money's worth in civilities, and was incessant in his atten- 
tions to " your Lordships," as he styled myself and my com- 
panion, Csesar di Cagnola, a young Milanese. 

The Maltese were tailors and clerks, who were taking a 
holiday trip to witness the great festival of St. Agatha. \Yith 
two exceptions, they were a wild and senseless, though good- 
natured set, and in spite of sea-sickness, which exercised them 
terribly for the first two days, kept up a constant jabber in 
their bastard Arabic from morning till night. As is usual in 
such a company, one of them was obliged to serve as a butt for 
the rest, and "Maestro Paolo," as they termed him, wore such 
a profoundly serious face all the while, from his sea-sickness, 
that the fun never came to an end. As they were going to a 
religious festival, some of them had brought their "breviaries 
along with them ; but I am obliged to testify that, after the 
first day, prayers were totally forgotten. The sailors, how- 



SICILY. 



365 



ever, wore linen bags, printed with a figure of the Madonna, 
around their necks. 

The sea was rather rough, but Caesar and I fortified our 
stomachs with a bottle of English ale, and as it was dark by 
this time, sought our resting-places for the night. As we had 
paid double, places were assured us in the coop on deck, but 
beds were not included in the bargain. The Maltese, who had 
brought mattresses and spread a large Phalansterian bed in 
the hold, fared much better. I took one of my carpet bags 
for a pillow and lay down on the planks, where I succeeded in 
getting a little sleep between the groans of the helpless land- 
lubbers. We had the ponente, or west-wind, all night, but the 
speronara moved sluggishly, and in the morning it changed to 
the greco-kvante, or north-east. No land was in sight ; but 
towards noon, the sky became clearer, and we saw the southern 
coast of Sicily — a bold mountain-shore, looming phantom-like 
in the distance. Cape Passaro was to the east, and the rest of 
the day was spent in beating up to it. At sunset, we were 
near enough to see the villages and olive-groves of the beauti- 
ful shore, and, far behind the nearer mountains, ninety miles 
distant, the solitary cone of Etna. 

The second night passed like the first, except that our 
bruised limbs were rather more sensitive to the texture of the 
planks. We crawled out of our coop at dawn, expecting to 
behold Catania in the distance ; but there was Cape Passaro 
still staring us in the face. The Maltese were patient, and we 
did not complain, though Caesar and I began to make nice cal- 
culations as to the probable duration of our two cold fowls 
and three loaves of bread. The promontory of Syracuse was 
barely visible forty miles ahead ; but the wind was against us, 



366 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



and so another day passed in beating up the eastern coast. 
At dusk, we overtook another speronara which had left Malta 
two hours before us, and this was quite a triumph to our cap- 
tain. All the oars were shipped, the sailors and some of the 
more courageous passengers took hold, and we shot ahead, 
scudding rapidly along the dark shores, to the sound of the 
wild Maltese songs. At length, the promontory was gained, 
and the restless current, rolling down from Scylla and Charyb- 
dis, tossed our little bark from wave to wave with a reckless- 
ness that would have made any one nervous but an old sailor 
like myself. 

" To-morrow morning," said the Captain, "we shall sail into 
Catania f but after a third night on the planks, which were 
now a little softer, we rose to find ourselves abreast of Syra- 
cuse, with Etna as distant as ever. The wind was light, and 
what little we made by tacking was swept away by the cur- 
rent, so that, after wasting the whole forenoon, we kept a 
straight course across the mouth of the channel, and at sunset 
saw the Calabrian Mountains. This move only lost us more 
ground, as it happened. Caesar and I mournfully and silently 
consumed our last fragment of beef, with the remaining dry 
crusts of bread, and then sat down doggedly to smoke and see 
whether the captain would discover our situation. But no ; 
while we were supplied, the whole vessel was at our Lordships' 
command, and now that we were destitute, he took care to 
make no rash offers. Caesar, at last, with an imperial dignity 
becoming his name, commanded dinner. It came, and the pork 
and maccaroni, moistened with red Sicilian wine, gave us 
patience for another day. 

The fourth morning dawned, and — Great Xeptune be 



THE GULF OF CATANIA. 



367 



praised ! — we were actually within the Gulf of Catania. Etna 
loomed up in all his sublime bulk, unobscured by cloud or mist, 
while a slender jet of smoke, rising from his crater, was slowly 
curling its wreaths in the clear air, as if happy to receive the 
first beam of the sun. The towers of Syracuse, which had 
mocked us all the preceding day, were no longer visible ; the 
land-locked little port of Augusta lay behind us ; and, as the 
wind continued favorable, ere long we saw a faint white mark 
at the foot of the mountain. This was Catania.; The shores 
of the bay were enlivened with olive-groves and the gleam of 
the villages, while here and there a single palm dreamed of its 
brothers across the sea./ Etna, of course, had the monarch's 
place in the landscape, but even his large, magnificent outlines 
could not usurp all my feeling. The purple peaks to the west- 
ward and farther inland^ had a beauty of their own, and in the 
gentle curves with which they leaned towards each other, there 
was a promise of the flowery meadows of Enna. The smooth 
blue water was speckled with fishing-boats. We hailed one, 
inquiring when the festa was to commence ; but, mistaking our 
question, they answered: " Anchovies." Thereupon, a wag- 
gish Maltese informed them that Maestro Paolo thanked them 
heartily. All the other boats were hailed in the name of 
Maestro Paolo, who, having recovered from his sea-sickness, 
took his bantering good-humor edly. 

Catania presented a lovely picture, as we drew near the 
harbor. Planted at the very foot of Etna, it has a background 
such as neither Naples nor Genoa can boast. The hills next 
the sea are covered with gardens and orchards, sprinkled with 
little villages and the country palaces of the nobles — a rich, 
cultured landscape, which gradually merges into the forests of 



363 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



oak and chestnut that girdle the waist of the great volcano. 
But all the wealth of southern vegetation cannot hide the 
footsteps of that Ruin, which from time to time visits the soil. 
Half-way up, the mountain-side is dotted with cones of ashes and 
cinders, some covered with the scanty shrubbery which centuries 
have called forth, some barren and recent ; while two dark, 
winding streams of sterile lava descend to the very shore, 
where they stand congealed in ragged needles and pyramids. 
Part of one of these black floods has swept the town, and, 
tumbling into the sea, walls one side of the port. 

TTe glided slowly past the mole, and dropped anchor a few 
yards from the shore. There was a sort of open promenade 
planted with trees, in front of us, surrounded with high white 
houses, above which rose the dome of the Cathedral and the 
spires of other churches. The magnificent palace of Prince 
Biscari was on our right, and at its foot the Customs and 
Revenue offices. Every roof, portico, and window was lined 
with lamps, a triumphal arch spanned the street before the 
palace, and the landing-place at the offices was festooned with 
crimson and white drapery, spangled with gold. While we 
were waiting permission to land, a scene presented itself which 
recalled the pagan days of Sicily to my mind. A procession 
came in sight from under the trees, and passed along the shore. 
In the centre was borne a stately shrine, hung with garlands, 
and containing an image of St. Agatha. The sound of flutes 
and cymbals accompanied it, and a band of children, bearing 
orange and palm branches, danced riotously before. Had the 
image been Pan instead of St. Agatha, the ceremonies would 
have been quite as appropriate. 

The speronara's boat at last took us to the gorgeous landing- 



THE SUSPECTED LIST. 



869 



place, where we were carefully counted by a fat Sicilian official, 
and declared free from quarantine. We were then called into 
the Passport Office, where the Maltese underwent a searching 
examination. One of the officers sat with the Black Book, or 
list of suspected persons of all nations, open before him, and 
looked for each name as it was called out. Another scanned 
the faces of the frightened tailors, as if comparing them with 
certain revolutionary visages in his mind. Terrible was the 
keen, detective glance of his eye, and it went straight through 
the poor Maltese, who vanished with great rapidity when they 
were declared free to enter the city. At last, they all passed 
the ordeal, but Caesar and I remained, looking in at the door. 
" There are still these two Frenchmen," said the captain. " I 
am no Frenchman," I protested ; " I am an American." " And 
I," said Caesar, " am an Austrian subject." Thereupon we 
received a polite invitation to enter ; the terrible glance softened 
into a benign, respectful smile ; he of the Black Book ran 
lightly over the C's and T ? s, and said, with a courteous inclina- 
tion : " There is nothing against the signori." I felt quite 
relieved by this ; for, in the Mediterranean, one is never safe 
from spies, and no person is too insignificant to escape the ban, 
if once suspected. 

Calabria was filled to overflowing with strangers from all 
parts of the Two Sicilies, and we had some difficulty in finding 
very bad and dear lodgings. It was the first day of the festa, 
and the streets were filled with peasants, the men in black 
velvet jackets and breeches, with stockings, and long white cot- 
ton caps hanging on the shoulders, and the women with gay 
silk shawls on their heads, after the manner of the Mexican 
reboza. In all the public squares, the market scene in Masa- 

16* 



810 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX. 



niello was acted to the life. The Sicilian dialect is harsh and 
barbarous, and the original Italian is so disguised by the admix- 
ture of Arabic, Spanish, French, and Greek words, that even 
my imperial friend, who was a born Italian, had great difficulty 
in understanding the people. 

I purchased a guide to the festa, which, among other things, 
contained a biography of St. Agatha. It is a beautiful speci- 
men of pious writing, and I regret that I have not space to 
translate the whole of it. Agatha was a beautiful Catanian 
virgin, who secretly embraced Christianity during the reign of 
Nero. Catania was then governed by a praetor named Quin- 
tianus, who, becoming enamored of Agatha, used the most 
brutal means to compel her to submit to his desires, but with- 
out effect. At last, driven to the crudest extremes, he cut off 
her breasts, and threw her into prison. But at midnight, St. 
Peter, accompanied by an angel, appeared to her, restored the 
maimed parts, and left her more beautiful than ever. Quin- 
tianus then ordered a furnace to be heated, and cast her 
therein. A terrible earthquake shook the city ; the sun w r as 
eclipsed ; the sea rolled backwards, and left its bottom dry ; 
the praetor's palace fell in ruins, and he, pursued by the ven- 
geance of the populace, fled till he reached the river Simeto, 
where he was drowned in attempting to cross. "The thunders 
of the vengeance of God," says the biography, " struck him 
down into the profoundest Hell !" This was in the year 
252. 

The body was carried to Constantinople in 1040, "although 
the Catanians wept incessantly at their loss but in 1126, two 
French knights, named Gilisbert and Goselin, were moved by 
angelic influences to restore it to its native town, which they 



THE ILLUMINATION. 



371 



accomplished, " and the eyes of the Catanians again burned 
with joy." The miracles effected by the saint are numberless, 
and her power is especially efficacious in preventing earth- 
quakes and eruptions of Mount Etna. Nevertheless, Catania 
has suffered more from these causes than any other town in 
Sicily. But I would that all saints had as good a claim to 
canonization as St. Agatha. The honors of such a festival as 
this are not out of place, when paid to such youth, beauty, 
and " heavenly chastity," as she typifies. 

The guide, which I have already consulted, gives a full 
account of the festa, in advance, with a description of Catania. 
The author says : "If thy heart is not inspired by gazing on 
this lovely city, it is a fatal sign — thou wert not born to feel 
the sweet impulses of the Beautiful !" Then, in announcing 
the illuminations and pyrotechnic displays, he exclaims : " Oh, 
the amazing spectacle ! Oh, how happy art thou, that thou 
beholdest it ! What pyramids of lamps ! What myriads of 
rockets ! What wonderful temples of flame ! The Mountain 
himself is astonished at such a display." And truly, except 
the illumination of the Golden Horn on the Night of Predes- 
tination, I have seen nothing equal to the spectacle presented 
by Catania, during the past three nights. The city, which has 
been built up from her ruins more stately than ever, was in a 
blaze of light — all her domes, towers, and the long lines of her 
beautiful palaces revealed in the varying red and golden flames 
of a hundred thousand lamps and torches. Pyramids of fire, 
transparencies, and illuminated triumphal arches filled the four 
principal streets, and the fountain in the Cathedral square 
gleamed like a jet of molten silver, spinning up from one of the 
pores of Etna. At ten o'clock, a gorgeous display of fire-works 



372 



THE LAXD3 OF THE SARACEN. 



closed the day's festivities, but the lamps remained burning 
nearly all night. 

On the second night, the grand Procession of the Vefl took 
place. I witnessed this imposing spectacle from the balcony 
of Prince Gessina's palace. Long lines of waxen torches led 
the way, followed by a military band, and then a company of 
the highest prelates, in their most brilliant costumes, surround- 
ing the Bishop, who walked under a canopy of silk and gold, 
bearing the miraculous veil of St. Agatha. I was blessed with 
a distant view of it, but could see no traces of the rosy hue 
left upon it by the flames of the Saint's martyrdom. Behind 
the priests came the Litendente of Sicily, Gen. Filangieri, the 
same who, three years ago, gave up Catania to sack and 
slaughter. He was followed by the Senate of the City, who 
have just had the cringing cowardice to offer him a ball on 
next Sunday night. If ever a man deserved the vengeance of 
an outraged people, it is this Filangieri, who was first a Liberal, 
when the cause promised success, and then made himself the 
scourge of the vilest of kings. As he passed me last night in 
his carriage of State, while the music pealed in rich rejoicing 
strains, that solemn chant with which the monks break upon 
the revellers, in 11 Lucrezia Borgia," came into my mind : 

"La gioja dei profani 
' E un fumo passagier — ?? 

1 the rejoicing of the profane is a transitory mist.] I heard, 
under the din of all these festivities, the voice of that Retribu- 
tion which even now lies in wait, and will not long be delayed. 

To-night Signor Scavo, the American Tice-Consul, took me 
to the palace of Prince Biscari, overlooking the harbor, in 



THE BIS CAR! PALACE. 



373 



order to behold the grand display of fireworks from the end of 
the mole. The showers of rockets and colored stars, and the 
temples of blue and silver fire, were repeated in the dark, quiet 
bosom of the sea, producing the most dazzling and startling 
effects. There was a large number of the Catanese nobility 
present, and among them a Marchesa Gioveni, the descendant 
of the bloody house of Anjou. Prince Biscari is a benign, 
courtly old man, and greatly esteemed here. His son is at 
present in exile, on account of the part he took in the late 
revolution. During the sack of the city under Filangieri, the 
palace was plundered of property to the amount of ten thou- 
sand dollars. The museum of Greek and Roman antiquities 
attached to it, and which the house of Biscari has been collect- 
ing for many years, is probably the finest in Sicily. The state 
apartments were thrown open this evening, and when I left, an 
hour ago, the greater portion of the guests were going through 
mazy quadrilles on the mosaic pavements. 

Among the antiquities of Catania which I have visited, are 
the Amphitheatre, capable of holding 15,000 persons, the old 
Greek Theatre, the same in which Alcibiades made his noted 
harangue to the Catanians, the Odeon, and the ancient Baths. 
The theatre, which is in tolerable preservation, is built of lava, 
like many of the modern edifices in the city. The Baths 
proved to me, what I had supposed, that the Oriental Bath of 
the present day is identical with that of the Ancients. Why 
so admirable an institution has never been introduced into 
Europe (except in the Bains Chinois of Paris) is more than I 
can tell. From the pavement of these baths, which is nearly 
twenty feet below the surface of the earth, the lava of later 
eruptions has burst up, in places, in hard black jets. The most 



374 



TEE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



wonderful token of that flood which whelmed Catania two 
hundred years ago, is to be seen at the Grand Benedictine 
Convent of San Nicola, in the upper part of the city. Here 
the stream of lava divides itself just before the Convent, and 
flows past on both sides, leaving the building and gardens 
untouched. The marble courts, the fountains, the splendid 
galleries, and the gardens of richest southern bloom and fra- 
grance, stand like an epicurean island in the midst of the terri- 
ble stony waves, whose edges bristle with the thorny aloe and 
cactus. The monks of San Nicola are all chosen from the 
Sicilian nobility, and live a comfortable life of luxury and vice. 
Each one has his own carriage, horses, and servants, and each 
his private chambers outside of the convent walls and his kept 
concubines. These facts are known and acknowledged by the 
Catanians, to whom they are a lasting scandal. 

It is past midnight, and I must close. Caesar started this 
afternoon, alone, for the ascent of Etna. I would have accom- 
panied him, but my only chance of reaching Messina in time 
for the next steamer to Naples is the diligence which leaves 
here to-morrow. The mountain has been covered with clouds 
for the last two days, and I have had no view at all compara- 
ble to that of the morning of my arrival. To-morrow the 
grand procession of the Body of St. Agatha takes place, but 
I am quite satisfied with three days of processions and horse 
races, and three nights of illuminations. 

I leave in the morning, with a Sicilian passport, my own 
availing me nothing, after landing. 



THE MOUNTAIN THREATENS. 



375 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE ERUPTION OF MOUNT ETNA. 

The Mountain Threatens — The Signs Increase — We Leave Catania — Gardens Among 
the Lava — Etna Labors — Aci Reale — The Groans of Etna — The Eruption— Gigantic 
Tree of Smoke — Formation of the New Crater — We Lose Sight of the Mountain — Arrival 
at Messina — Etna is Obscured — Departure. 

" the shattered side 

Of thundering iEtna, whose combustible 

And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire, 

Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds, 

And leave a singed bottom." Milton. 

Messina, Sicily, Monday, August 23, 1852. 

The noises of the festival had not ceased when I closed my 
letter at midnight, on Friday last. I slept soundly through 
the night, but was awakened before sunrise by my Sicilian land- 
lord. " 0, Excellenza ! have you heard the Mountain ? He is 
going to break out again ; may the holy Santa Agatha protect 
us !" f It is rather ill-timed on the part of the Mountain, was 
my involuntary first thought, that he should choose for a new 
eruption precisely the centennial festival of the only Saint who 
is supposed to have any power over him. It shows a disregard 
of female influence not at all suited to the present day, and I 
scarcely believe that he seriously means it. Next came along 
the jabbering landlady : " I don't like his looks. It was just 
so the last time. Come, Excellenza, you can see him from the 



376 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



back terrace." The sun was not yet risen, but the east was 
bright with his coming, and there was not a cloud in the sky. 
All the features of Etna were sharply sculptured in the clear 
air. From the topmost cone, a thick stream of white smoke 
was slowly puffed out at short intervals, and rolled lazily down 
the eastern side. It had a heavy, languid character, and I 
should have thought nothing of the appearance but for the 
alarm of my hosts. It was like the slow fire of Earth's 
incense, burning on that grand mountain altar. 

I hurried off to the Post Office, to await the arrival of the 
diligence from Palermo. The office is in the Strada Etnea, 
the main street of Catania, which runs straight through the 
city, from the sea to the base of the mountain, whose peak 
closes the long vista. The diligence was an hour later than 
usual, and I passed the time in watching the smoke which con- 
tinued to increase in volume, and was mingled, from time to 
time, with jets of inky blackness. The postilion said he had 
seen fires and heard loud noises during the night. According 
to his account, the disturbances commenced about midnight. 
I could not but envy my friend Caesar, who was probably at 
that moment on the summit, looking down into the seething 
fires of the crater. 

At last, we rolled out of Catania, There were in the dili- 
gence, besides myself, two men and a woman, Sicilians of the 
secondary class. The road followed the shore, over rugged 
tracts of lava, the different epochs of which could be distinctly 
traced in the character of the vegetation. The last great flow 
(of 16 7 9) stood piled in long ridges of terrible sterility, barely 
allowing the aloe and cactus to take root in the hollows between. 
The older deposits were sufficiently decomposed to nourish 



THE MOUNTAIN LABORS. 



8TT 



tlie olive and vine ; but even here, the orchards were studded 
with pyramids of the harder fragments, which are laboriously 
collected by the husbandmen. In the few favored spots which 
have been untouched for so many ages that a tolerable depth of 
soil has accumulated, the vegetation has all the richness and 
brilliancy of tropical lands. The palm, orange, and pome- 
granate thrive luxuriantly, and the vines almost break under 
their heavy clusters. The villages are frequent and well built, 
and the hills are studded, far and near, with the villas of rich 
proprietors, mostly buildings of one story, with verandahs 
extending their whole length. Looking up towards Etna, 
whose base the road encircles, the views are gloriously rich and 
beautiful. On the other hand is the blue Mediterranean and 
the irregular outline of the shore, here and there sending forth 
promontories of lava, cooled by the waves into the most fan- 
tastic forms. 

We had not proceeded far before a new sign called my 
attention to the mountain. Not only was there a perceptible 
jar or vibration in the earth, but a dull, groaning sound, like 
the muttering of distant thunder, began to be heard. The 
smoke increased in volume, and, as we advanced further to the 
eastward, and much nearer to the great cone, I perceived that 
it consisted of two jets, issuing from different mouths. A 
broad stream of very dense white smoke still flowed over the 
lip of the topmost crater and down the eastern side. As its 
breadth did not vary, and the edges were distinctly defined, it 
was no doubt the sulphureous vapor rising from a river of 
molten lava. Perhaps a thousand yards below, a much stronger 
column of mingled black and white smoke gushed up, in regular 
beats or pants, from a depression in the mountain side, between 



318 



THE LANDS OF TEE SARACEN. 



two small, extinct cones. All this part of Etna was scarred 
with deep chasms, and in the bottoms of those nearest the 
opening, I could see the red gleam of fire. The air was per- 
fectly still, and as vet there was no cloud in the sky. 

TThen we stopped to change horses at the town of Aci 
Reale, I first felt the violence of the tremor and the awful 
sternness of the sound. The smoke by this time seemed to be 
gathering on the side towards Catania, and hung in a dark 
mass about half-way down the mountain. Groups of the vil- 
lagers were gathered in the streets which looked upwards to 
Etna, and discussing the chances of an eruption. " Ah," said 
an old peasant, " the Mountain knows how to make himself 
respected. TVhen he talks, everybody listens." The sound 
was the most awful that ever met my ears. It was a hard, 
painful moan, now and then Muttering like a suppressed sob, 
and had, at the same time, an expression of threatening aud of 
agony. It did not come from Etna alone. It had no fixed 
location ; it pervaded all space. It was in the air, in the 
depths of the sea, in the earth under my feet — everywhere, in 
fact ; and as it continued to increase in violence. I experienced 
a sensation of positive pain. The people looked anxious and 
alarmed, although they said it was a good thing for all Sicily ; 
that last year they had been in constant fear from earthquakes, 
and that an eruption invariably left the island quiet for several 
years. It is true that, during the past year, parts of Sicily 
and Calabria have been visited with severe shocks, occasioning 
much damage to property. A merchant of this city informed 
me yesterday that his whole family had slept for two months 
in the vaults of his warehouse, fearing that their residence 
might be shaken down in the night. 



THE ERUPTION. 



3^9 



As we rode along from Aci Reale to Taormina, all the rat- 
tling of the diligence over the rough road could not drown 
the awful noise. There was a strong smell of sulphur in the 
air, and the thick pants of smoke from the lower crater con- 
tinued to increase in strength. The sun was fierce and hot, 
and the edges of the sulphureous clouds shone with a dazzling 
whiteness. A mounted soldier overtook us, and rode beside 
the diligence, talking with the postillion. He had been up to 
the mountain, and was taking his report to the Governor of 
the district. The heat of the day and the continued tremor 
of the air lulled me into a sort of doze, when I was suddenly 
aroused by a cry from the soldier and the stopping of the dili- 
gence. At the same time, there was a terrific peal of sound, 
followed by a jar which must have shaken the whole island. 
We looked up to Etna, which was fortunately in full view 
before us. An immense mass of snow-white smoke had burst 
up from the crater and was rising perpendicularly into the air, 
its rounded volumes rapidly whirling one over the other, yet 
urged with such impetus that they only rolled outwards after 
they had ascended to an immense height. It might have been 
one minute or five — for I was so entranced by this wonderful 
spectacle that I lost the sense of time — but it seemed instant- 
aneous (so rapid and violent were the effects of the explosion), 
when there stood in the air, based on the summit of the moun- 
tain, a mass of smoke four or five miles high, and shaped pre- 
cisely like the Italian pine tree. 

Words cannot paint the grandeur of this mighty tree. Its 
trunk of columned smoke, one side of which was silvered by the 
sun, while the other, in shadow, was lurid with red flame, rose 
for more than a mile before it sent out its cloudy boughs. Then 



380 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



parting into a thousand streams, each of which again threw 
out its branching tufts of smoke, rolling and waving in the air, 
it stood in intense relief against the dark blue of the sky. Its 
rounded masses of foliage were dazzlingly white on one side, 
while, in the shadowy depths of the branches, there was a con- 
stant play of brown, yellow, and crimson tints, revealing the 
central shaft of fire. It was like the tree celebrated in the 
Scandinavian sagas, as seen by the mother of Harold Har- 
drada — that tree, whose roots pierced through the earth, whose 
trunk was of the color of blood, and whose branches filled the 
uttermost corners of the heavens. 

This outburst seemed to have relieved the mountain, for the 
tremors were now less violent, though the terrible noise still 
droned in the air, and earth, and sea. And now, from the 
base of the tree, three white streams slowly crept into as many 
separate chasms, against the walls of which played the flicker- 
ing glow of the burning lava. The column of smoke and flame 
was still hurled upwards, and the tree, after standing about 
ten minutes — a new and awful revelation of the active forces 
of Mature — gradually rose and spread, lost its form, and, 
slowly moved by a light wind (the first that disturbed the dead 
calm of the day), bent over to the eastward. We resumed 
our course. The vast belt of smoke at last arched over the 
strait, here about twenty miles wide, and sank towards the 
distant Calabrian shore. As we drove under it, for some miles 
of our way, the sun was totally obscured, and the sky pre- 
sented the singular spectacle of two hemispheres of clear blue, 
with a broad belt of darkness drawn between them. There 
was a hot, sulphureous vapor in the air, and showers of white 
ashes fell, from time to time. We were distant about twelve 



WE LOSE SIGHT OF ETNA. 



381 



miles, in a straight line, from the crater ; but the air was so 
clear, even under the shadow of the smoke, that I could dis- 
tinctly trace the downward movement of the rivers of lava. 

This was the eruption, at last, to which all the phenomena 
of the morning had been only preparatory. For the first time 
in ten years the depths of Etna had been stirred, and I thanked 
God for my detention at Malta, and the singular hazard of 
travel which had brought me here, to his very base, to witness 
a scene, the impression of which I shall never lose, to my dying 
day. Although the eruption may continue and the mountain 
pour forth fiercer fires and broader tides of lava, I cannot but 
think that the first upheaval, which lets out the long-imprisoned 
forces, will not be equalled in grandeur by any later spectacle. 

After passing Taormina, our road led us under the hills of 
the coast, and although I occasionally caught glimpses of Etna, 
and saw the reflection of fires from the lava which was filling 
up his savage ravines, the smoke at last encircled nis waist, 
and he was then shut out of sight by the intervening moun- 
tains. We lost a bolt in a deep valley opening on the sea, and 
during our stoppage I could still hear the groans of the Moun- 
tain, though farther off and less painful to the ear. As 
evening came on, the beautiful hills of Calabria, with white 
towns and villages on their sides, gleamed in the purple light 
of the setting sun. We drove around headland after headland, 
till the strait opened, and we looked over the harbor of Messina 
to Capo Faro, and the distant islands of the Tyrrhene Sea. 



I leave this afternoon for Naples and Leghorn. I have lost 
already so much time between Constantinople and this place, 



382 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



that I cannot give up ten days more to Etna. Besides, I am 
so thoroughly satisfied with what I have seen, that I fear no 
second view of the eruption could equal it. Etna cannot be 
seen from here, nor from a nearer point than a mountain six or 
eight miles distant. I tried last evening to get a horse and 
ride out to it, in order to see the appearance of the eruption 
by night ; but every horse, mule and donkey in the place was 
engaged, except a miserable lame mule, for which five dollars 
was demanded. However, the night happened to be cloudy, 
so that I could have seen nothing. 

My passport is finally en regie. It has cost the labors of 
myself and an able-bodied valet-de-place since yesterday morning, 
and the expenditure of five dollars and a half, to accomplish 
this great work. I have just been righteously abusing the 
Neapolitan Government to a native merchant whom, from his 
name, I took to be a Frenchman, but as I am off in an hour 01 
two, hope to escape arrest. Perdition to all Tyranny ! 



UNWRITTEN LINKS OF TRAVEL. 



383 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

GIBRALTAR. 

Unwritten Links of Travel — Departure from Southampton — The Bay of Biscay — Cintra 
—Trafalgar — Gibraltar at Midnight — Landing — Search for a Palm-Tree — A Brilliant 
Morning — The Convexity of the Earth — Sun-Worship — The Rock. 

" to the north- west, Cape St. Vincent died away, 

Sunset ran, a burning blood-red, blushing into Cadiz Bay. 

In the dimmest north-east distance dawned Gibraltar, grand and gray." 

Browning. 

Gibraltar, Saturday, November 6, 1852. 

I leave unrecorded the links of travel which connected Mes- 
sina and Gibraltar. They were over the well-trodden fields of 
Europe, where little ground is left that is not familiar, f In 
leaving Sicily I lost the Saracenic trail, which I had been fol- 
lowing through the East, and first find it again here, on the 
rock of Calpe, whose name, Djebel el-Tarik (the Mountain of 
Tarik), still speaks of the fiery race whose rule extended from 
the unknown ocean of the West to " Ganges and Hydaspes, 
Indian streams." (In Malta and Sicily, I saw their decaying 
watch-towers, and recognized their sign-manual in the deep, 
guttural, masculine words and expressions which they have 
left behirld them. I now design following their footsteps 
through the beautiful Belad-el-Andaluz, which, to the eye of 



384 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the Melek Abd-er-rahman, was only less lovely than the plains 
of Damascus. 

While in Constantinople, I received letters which opened to 
me wider and richer fields of travel than I had already tra- 
versed. I saw a possibility of exploring the far Indian realms, 
the shores of farthest Cathay and the famed Zipango of Marco 
Polo. Before entering on this new sphere of experiences, how- 
ever, it was necessary for me to visit Italy, Germany,- and 
England. I sailed from Messina to Leghorn, and travelled 
thence, by way of Florence, Venice, and the Tyrol, to Munich 
After three happy weeks at Gotha, and among the valleys of 
the Thuringian Forest, I went to London, where business and 
the preparation for my new journeys detained me two or three 
weeks longer. Although the comforts of European civilization 
were pleasant, as a change, after the wild life of the Orient, the 
autumnal rains of England soon made me homesick for the 
sunshine I had left. The weather was cold, dark, and dreary, 
and the oppressive, sticky atmosphere of the bituminous metro- 
polis weighed upon me like a nightmare. Heartily tired of 
looking at a sun that could show nothing brighter than a red 
copper disk, and of breathing an air that peppered my face 
with particles of soot, I left on the 28th of October. It was 
one of the dismalest days of autumn ; the meadows of Berk- 
shire were flooded with broad, muddy streams, and the woods 
on the hills of Hampshire looked brown and sodden, as if 
slowly rotting away. I reached Southampton at dusk, bat 
there the sky was nekher warmer nor clearer, so I spent the 
evening over a coal Err., al 7 impatience for the bright beloved 
South, towards which my face was turned once more. 

The Madras left on tils next day, at 2 p.m., in the midst of 



THE BAY OF BISCAY. 



385 



a cheerless rain, which ha]f blotted out the pleasant shores of 
Southampton Water, and the Isle of Wight. The Madras 
was a singularly appropriate vessel for one bound on such a 
journey as mine. The surgeon was Dr. Mungo Park, and one 
of my room-mates was Mr. R. Crusoe. It was a Friday, 
which boded no good for the voyage ; but then my journey com- 
menced with my leaving London the day previous, and Thurs- 
day is a lucky day among the Arabs. I caught a watery view 
of the gray cliffs of the Needles, when dinner was announced, 
but many were those (and I among them) w r ho commenced 
that meal, and did not stay to finish it. 

Is there any piece of water more unreasonably, distressingly, 
disgustingly rough and perverse than the British Channel ? 
Yes : there is one, and but one — the Bay of Biscay. And as 
the latter succeeds the former, without a pause between, and 
the head-winds never ceased, and the rain continually poured, 
I leave you to draw the climax of my misery. Four days and 
four nights in a berth, lying on your back, now dozing dull 
hour after hour, now making faint endeavors to eat, or reading 
the feeblest novel ever written, because the mind cannot digest 
stronger aliment — can there be a greater contrast to the wide- 
awake life, the fiery inspiration, of the Orient ? My blood 
became so sluggish and my mind so cloudy and befogged, that 
I despaired of ever thinking clearly or feeling vividly again, 
"The winds are rude" in Biscay, Byron says. They are, 
indeed : very rude. They must have been raised in some most 
disorderly quarter of the globe. They pitched the waves right 
over our bulwarks, and now and then dashed a bucketful of 
water down the cabin skylight, swamping the ladies' cabin, and 
setting scores of bandboxes afloat. Not that there was the 

n 



886 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



least actual danger ; but Mrs, — — would not be persuaded 
that we were not on the brink of destruction, and wrote to 
friends at home a voluminous account of her feelings. There 
was an Irishman on board, bound to Italy, with his sister. It 
was his first tour, and when asked why he did not go direct, 
through France, he replied, with brotherly concern, that he 
was anxious his sister should see the Bay of Biscay. 

This youth's perceptions were of such an emerald hue, that 
a lot of wicked Englishmen had their own fun out of him. 
The other day, he was trying to shave, to the great danger of 
slicing off his nose, as the vessel was rolling fearfully. " Why 
don't you have the ship headed to the wind ?" said one of the 
Englishmen, who heard his complaints ; " she will then lie 
steady, and you can shave beautifully." Thereupon the Irish- 
man sent one of the stewards upon deck with a polite message 
to the captain, begging him to put the vessel about for five 
minutes. 

Towards noon of the fifth day, we saw the dark, rugged 
mountains that guard the north-western corner of the Spanish 
Peninsula. We passed the Bay of Corunna, and rounding the 
bold headland of, Finisterre, left the Biscayan billows behind 
us. But the sea was still rough and the sky clouded, although 
the next morning the mildness of the air showed the change in 
our latitude. About noon that day, we made the Burlings, a 
cluster of rocks forty miles north of Lisbon, and just before 
sunset, a transient lifting of the clouds revealed the Rock of 
Cintra, at the mouth of the Tagus. The tall, perpendicular 
cliffs, and the mountain slopes behind, covered with gardens, 
orchards, and scattered villas and hamlets, made a grand 
though dim picture, which was soon hidden from our view. 



LANDING AT GIBRALTAR, 



387 



On the 4th, we were nearly all day crossing the mouth of 
the Bay of Cadiz, and only at sunset saw Cape Trafalgar afar 
off, glimmering through the reddish haze. I remained on deck, 
as there were patches of starlight in the sky. After passing 
the light-house at Tarifa, the Spanish shore continued to be 
visible. In another hour, there was a dim, cloudy outline high 
above the horizon, on our right. This was the Lesser Atlas, 
in Morocco. And now, right ahead, distinctly visible, though 
fifteen miles distant, lay a colossal lion, with his head on his 
outstretched paws, looking towards Africa. If I had been 
brought to the spot blindfolded, I should have known what it 
was. The resemblance is certainly very striking, and the light- 
house on Europa Point seemed to be a lamp held in his paws. 
The lights of the city and fortifications rose one by one, glit- 
tering along the base, and at midnight we dropped anchor 
before them on the western side. 

I landed yesterday morning. The mists, which had followed 
me from England, had collected behind the Rock, and the sun, 
still hidden by its huge bulk, shone upwards through them, 
making a luminous background, against which the lofty walls 
and jagged ramparts of this tremendous natural fortification 
were clearly defined. I announced my name, and the length 
of time I designed remaining, at a little office on the quay, and 
was then allowed to pass into the city. A number of familiar 
white turbans met me on entering, and I could not resist the 
temptation of cordially saluting the owners in their own lan- 
guage. The town is long and narrow, lying steeply against 
the Rock. The houses are white, yellow and pink, as in 
Spanish towns, but the streets are clean and well paved. 
There is a square, about the size of an ordinary building-lot, 



388 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



where a sort of market of dry goods and small articles is held. 
The "Club-House Hotel" occupies one side of it; and, as I 
look out of my window upon it, I see the topmost cliffs of the 
Rock above me, threatening to topple down from a height of 
1,500 feet 

My first walk in Gibraltar was in search of a palm-tree. 
After threading the whole length of the town, I found two 
small ones in a garden, in the bottom of the old moat. The 
sun was shining, and his rays seemed to fall with double 
warmth on their feathery crests. Three brown Spaniards, 
bare-armed, were drawing water with a pole and bucket, and 
filling the little channels which conveyed it to the distant vege- 
tables. The sea glittered blue below ; an Indian fig-tree 
shaded me ; but, on the rock behind, an aloe lifted its blossom- 
ing stem, some twenty feet high, into the sunshine. To 
describe what a weight was lifted from my heart would seem 
foolish to those who do not know on what little things the 
whole tone of our spirits sometimes depends. 

But if an even balance was restored yesterday, the opposite 
scale kicked the beam this morning. Not a speck of vapor 
blurred the spotless crystal of the sky, as I walked aloDg the 
hanging paths of the Alameda. The sea was dazzling ultra- 
marine, with a purple lustre ; every crag and notch of the 
mountains across the bay, every shade of brown or gray, or 
the green of grassy patches, was drawn and tinted with a 
pencil so exquisitely delicate as almost to destroy the perspect- 
ive. The white houses of Algeciras, five miles off, appeared 
close at hand : a little toy-town, backed by miniature hills. 
Apes' Hill, the ancient Abyla, in Africa, advanced to meet 
Calpe, its opposing pillar, and Atlas swept away to the east- 



THE CONVEXITY OF THE EARTH. 



389 



ward, its blue becoming paler and paler, till the powers of 
vision finally failed. From the top of the southern point of 
the Rock, I saw the mountain-shore of Spain, as far as Malaga, 
and the snowy top of one of the Sierra Nevada. Looking 
eastward to the horizon line of the Mediterranean, my sight 
extended so far, in the wonderful clearness of the air, that the 
convexity of the earth's surface was plainly to be seen. The 
sea, instead of being a plane, was slightly convex, and the sky, 
instead of resting upon it at the horizon, curved down beyond 
it, as the upper side of a horn curves over the lower, when one 
looks into the mouth. There is none of the many aspects of 
Nature more grand than this, which is so rarely seen, that I 
believe the only person who has ever described it is Humboldt, 
who saw it, looking from the Silla de Caraccas over the Carib- 
bean Sea. It gives you the impression of standing on the edge 
of the earth, and looking off into space. From the mast-head, 
the ocean appears either flat or slightly concave, and aeronauts 
declare that this apparent concavity becomes more marked, the 
higher they ascend. It is only at those rare periods when the 
air is so miraculously clear as to produce the effect of no air — 
rendering impossible the slightest optical illusion — that our 
eyes can see things as they really are. So pure was the atmo- 
sphere to-day, that, at meridian, the moon, although a thin 
sickle, three days distant from the sun, shone perfectly white 
and clear. 

As I loitered in the Alameda, between thick hedges of ever- 
blooming geraniums, clumps of heliotrope three feet high, and 
luxuriant masses of ivy, around whose warm flowers the bees 
clustered and hummed, I could only think of the voyage as a 
hideous dream. The fog and gloom had been in my own eyes 



390 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



and in my own brain, and now the blessed sun, shining full in 
my face, awoke me. I am a worshipper of the Sun. I took 
off my hat to him, as I stood there, in a wilderness of white, 
crimson, and purple flowers, and let him blaze away in my face 
for a quarter of an hour. And as I walked home with my 
back to him, I often turned my face from side to side that I 
might feel his touch on my cheek. How a man can live, who 
is sentenced to a year's imprisonment, is more than I can 
understand. 

But all this (you will say) gives you no picture of Gibral- 
tar. The Rock is so familiar to all the world, in prints and 
descriptions, that I find nothing new to say of it, except that 
it is by no means so barren a rock as the island of Malta, 
being clothed, in many places, with beautiful groves and the 
greenest turf ; besides, I have not yet seen the rock-galleries, 
having taken passage for Cadiz this afternoon. When I 
return — as I hope to do in twenty days, after visiting Seville 
and Granada — I shall procure permission to view all the forti- 
fications, and likewise to ascend to the summit. 



VOYAGE TO CADIZ. 



891 



CHAPTER XXXIII ' 

CADIZ AND SEVILLE. 

Voyage to Cadiz— Landing— The City— Its Streets— The Women of Cadiz— Embarka- 
tion for Seville — Scenery of the Guadalquivir — Custom House Examination — The 
Guide— The Streets of Seville— The Giralda— The Cathedral of Seville— The Alcazar- 
Moorish Architecture — Pilate's House — Morning View from the Giralda — Old Wine — 
Murillos — My Last Evening in Seville. 

" The walls of Cadiz front the shore, 

And shimmer o'er the sea." R. H. Stoddard. 

" Beautiful Seville ! 
Of which I've dreamed, until I saw its towers 
In every cloud that hid the setting sun." George H. Boker. 

Seville, November 10, 1852. 

I left Gibraltar on the evening of the 6th, in the steamer 
Iberia. The passage to Cadiz was made in nine hours, and we 
came to anchor in the harbor before day-break. It was a cheer- 
ful picture that the rising sun presented to us. The long white 
front of the city, facing the East, glowed with a bright rosy 
lustre, on a ground of the clearest blue. The tongue of land 
on which Cadiz stands is low, but the houses are lifted by the 
heavy sea-wall which encompasses them. The main-land con- 
sists of a range of low but graceful hills, while in the south- 
east the mountains of Ronda rise at some distance. I went 
immediately on shore, where my carpet-bag was seized upon 



892 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN" « 



by a boy, with the rich brown complexion of one of 
Murillo's beggars, who trudged off with it to the gate. 
After some little detention there, I was conducted to a long, 
deserted, barn-like building, where I waited half an hour before 
the proper officer came. When the latter had taken his private 
toll of my contraband cigars, the brown imp conducted me to 
Blanco's English Hotel, a neat and comfortable house on the 
Alameda. 

Cadiz is soon seen. Notwithstanding its venerable age of 
three thousand years — having been founded by Hercules, who 
figures on its coat-of-arms — it is purely a commercial city, and 
has neither antiquities, nor historic associations that interest 
any but Englishmen. It is compactly built, and covers a 
smaller space than accords with my ideas of its former splen- 
dor. I first walked around the sea-ramparts, enjoying the 
glorious look-off over the blue waters. The city is almost in- 
sulated, the triple line of fortifications on the land side being 
of but trifling length. A rocky ledge stretches out into the 
sea from the northern point, and at its extremity rises the mas- 
sive light-house tower, 1T0 feet high. The walls toward the sea 
were covered with companies of idle anglers, fishing with cane 
rods of enormous length. On the open, waste spaces between 
the bastions, boys had spread their limed cords to catch singing- 
birds, with chirping decoys placed here and there in wicker 
cages. Numbers of boatmen and peasants, in their brown 
jackets, studded with tags and bugles, and those round black 
caps which resemble smashed bandboxes, loitered about the 
walls or lounged on the grass in the sun. 

Except along the Alameda, which fronts the bay, the exte- 
rior of the city has an aspect of neglect and desertion The 



CADIZ. 



393 



interior, however, atones for this in the gay and lively air of its 
streets, which, though narrow, are regular and charmingly 
clean. The small plazas are neatness itself, and one is too con- 
tent with this to ask for striking architectural effects. The 
houses are tall and stately, of the most dazzling whiteness, and 
though you could point out no one as a pattern of style, the gene- 
ral effect is chaste and harmonious. In fact, there are two or 
three streets which you would almost pronounce faultless. The 
numbers of hanging balconies and of court-yards paved with mar- 
ble and surrounded with elegant corridors, show the influence of 
Moorish taste. There is not a mean-looking house to be seen, 
and I have no doubt that Cadiz is the best built city of its size 
in the world. It lies, white as new-fallen snow, like a cluster 
of ivory palaces, between sea and sky.f Blue and silver are its 
colors, and, as everybody knows, there can be no more charm- 
ing contrast. 

I visited both the old and new cathedrals, neither of which 
is particularly interesting. The latter is unfinished, and might 
have been a fine edifice had the labor and money expended on 
its construction been directed by taste. The interior, rich as 
it is in marbles and sculpture, has a heavy, confused effect. 
The pillars dividing the nave from the side-aisles are enormous 
composite masses, each one consisting of six Corinthian columns, 
stuck around and against a central shaft. More satisfactory 
to me was the Opera-House, which I visited in the evening, 
and where the dazzling array of dark-eyed G-aditanas put a 
stop to architectural criticism. The women of Cadiz are noted 
for their beauty and their graceful gait. Some of them are 
very beautiful, it is true ; but beauty is not the rule among 
them. Their gait, however, is the most graceful possible, 

17* 



894 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

because it is perfectly free and natural, j The commonest serv- 
ing-maid who walks the streets of Cadiz would put to shame a 
whole score of our mincing and wriggling belief 
L.,- Honest old Blanco prepared me a cup of chocolate by sun- 
rise next morning, and accompanied me down to the quay, to 
embark for Seville. A furious wind was blowing from the 
south-east, and the large green waves raced and chased one 
another incessantly over the surface of the bay. I took a 
heavy craft, which the boatmen pushed along under cover of 
the pier, until they reached the end, when the sail was dropped 
in the face of the wind, and away we shot into the watery 
tumult. The boat rocked and bounced over the agitated sur- 
face, running with one gunwale on the waves, and sheets of 
briny spray broke over me. I felt considerably relieved when 
I reached the deck of the steamer, but it was then diversion 
enough to watch those who followed. The crowd of boats 
pitching tumultuously around the steamer, jostling against each 
other, their hulls gleaming with wet, as they rose on the beryl- 
colored waves, striped with long, curded lines of wind-blown 
foam, would have made a fine subject for the pencil of Achen- 
bach. 

At last we pushed off, with a crowd of passengers fore and 
aft, and a pyramid of luggage piled around the smoke-pipe. 
There was a party of four Englishmen on board, and, on mak- 
ing their acquaintance, I found one of them to be a friend to 
some of my friends — Sir John Potter, the progressive ex- 
Mayor of Manchester. The wind being astern, we ran rapidly 
along the coast, and in two hours entered the mouth of the 
Guadalquivir. [This name comes from the Arabic wadi 
^-Meer— literally, the Great Yalley.] The shores are a dead 



SCENERY OF THE GUADALQUIVIR. 



395 



flat. The right bank is a dreary forest of stunted pines, abound- 
ing with deer and other game ; on the left is the dilapidated 
town of San Lucar, whence Magellan set sail on his first voy- 
age around the world. A mile further is Bonanza, the port 
of Xeres, where we touched and took on board a fresh lot of 
passengers. Thenceforth, for four hours, the scenery of th*f 
Guadalquivir had a most distressing sameness. The banks 
were as flat as a board, with here and there a straggling 
growth of marshy thickets. Now and then we passed a herds- 
man's hut, but there were no human beings to be seen, except 
the peasants who tended the large flocks of sheep and cattle. 
A sort of breakfast was served in the cabin, but so great was 
the number of guests that I had much difficulty in getting 
anything to eat. The waiters were models of calmness and 
deliberation. 

As we approached Seville, some low hills appeared on the 
left, near the river. Dazzling white villages were planted at 
their foot, and all the slopes were covered with olive orchards, 
while the banks of the stream were bordered with silvery birch 
trees. This gave the landscape, in spite of the African 
warmth and brightness of the day, a gray and almost wintry 
aspect. Soon the graceful Giralda, or famous Tower of 
Seville, arose in the distance ; but, from the windings of the 
river, we were half an hour in reaching the landing-place. 
One sees nothing of the far-famed beauty of Seville, on 
approaching it. The boat stops below the Alameda, where 
the passengers are received by Custom-House officers, who, in 
my case, did not verify the stories told of them in Cadiz. I 
gave my carpet-bag to a boy, who conducted me along the hot 
and dusty banks to the bridge over the Guadalquivir, where 



396 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



he turned into the city. On passing the gate, two loafer-like 
guards stopped my baggage, notwithstanding it had already 
been examined. " What !" said I, " do you examine twice on 
entering Seville?" " Yes," answered one; " twice, and even 
three times but added in a lower tone, "it depends entirely 
on yourself." With that he slipped behind me, and let one 
hand fall beside my pocket. The transfer of a small coin was 
dexterously made, and I passed on without further stoppage 
to the Fonda de Madrid. 

Sir John Potter engaged Antonio Bailli, the noted guide of 
Seville, who professes to have been the cicerone of all distin- 
guished travellers, from Lord Byron and Washington Irving 
down to Owen Jones, and I readily accepted his invitation to 
join the party. Bailli is recommended by Ford as "fat and 
good-humored n Fat he certainly is, and very good-humored 
when speaking of himself, but he has been rather spoiled 
by popularity, and is much too profuse in his critical remarks 
on art and architecture. Nevertheless, as my stay in Seville 
is limited, I have derived no slight advantage from his ser- 
vices. 

On the first morning I took an early stroll through the 
streets. The houses are glaringly white, like those of Cadiz, 
but are smaller and have not the same stately exteriors. The 
windows are protected by iron gratings, of florid pattern?, 
and, as many of these are painted green, the general effect is 
pleasing. Almost every door opens upon a patio, or court- 
yard, paved with black and white marble and adorned with 
flowers and fountains. Many of these remain from the time of 
the Moors, and are still surrounded by the delicate arches and 
brilliant tile-work of that period. The populace in the streets 



THE GIRALDA. 



397 



are entirely Spanish — the jaunty majo in his queer black cap, 
sash, and embroidered jacket, and the nut-brown, dark-eyed 
damsel, swimming along in her mantilla, and armed with the 
irresistible fan. 

We went first to the Cathedral, built on the site of the 
great mosque of Abou Youssuf Yakoub. The tall Giralda 
beckoned to us over the tops of the intervening buildings, and 
finally a turn in the street brought us to the ancient Moorish 
gateway on the northern side. This is an admirable specimen of 
the horse-shoe arch, and is covered with elaborate tracery. It 
originally opened into the court, or Mr am, of the mosque, 
which still remains, and is shaded by a grove of orange trees. 
The Giralda, to my eye, is a more perfect tower than the Cam- 
panile of Florence, or that of San Marco, at Yenice, which is 
evidently an idea borrowed from it. The Moorish structure, 
with a base of fifty feet square, rises to the height of two hun- 
dred and fifty feet. It is of a light pink color, and the sides, 
which are broken here and there by exquisitely proportioned 
double Saracenic arches, are covered from top to bottom with 
arabesque tracery, cut in strong relief. Upon this tower, a 
Spanish architect has placed a tapering spire, one hundred feet 
high, which fortunately harmonizes with the general design, 
and gives the crowning grace to the work. 

The Cathedral of Seville may rank as one of the grandest 
Gothic piles in Europe. The nave lacks but five feet of being 
as high as that of St. Peter's, while the length and breadth of 
the edifice are on a commensurate scale. The ninety-three 
windows of stained glass fill the interior with a soft and richly- 
tinted light, mellower and more gentle than the sombre twi- 
light of the Gothic Cathedrals of Europe. The wealth 



398 



THE LAVDS OF TEE SARACEN. 



kvished on the smaller chapels and shrines is prodigious, and 
the high altar, inclosed within a gilded railing fifty feet high, is 
probably the most enormous mass of wood-carving in existence. 
The Cathedral, in fact, is encumbered with its riches. While 
they bewilder you as monuments of human labor and patience, 
they detract from the grand simplicity of the building. The 
great nave, on each side of the transept, is quite blocked up, so 
that the choir and magnificent royal chapel behind it have 
almost the effect of detached edifices. 

We returned again this morning, remaining two hours, and 
succeeded in making a thorough survey, including a number of 
trashy pictures and barbarously rich shrines. Murillo's 
" Guardian Angel" and the "Vision of St. Antonio" are the 
only gems. The treasury contains a number of sacred vessels 
of silver, gold and jewels — among other things, the keys of 
Moorish Seville, a cross made of the first gold brought from 
the [New-World by Columbus, and another from that robbed 
in Mexico by Cortez. The Cathedral won my admiration 
more and more. The placing of the numerous windows, and 
their rich coloring, produce the most glorious effects of light in 
the lofty aisles, and one is constantly finding new vistas, new 
combinations of pillar, arch and shrine. The building is in 
itself a treasury of the grandest Gothic pictures. 

From the Cathedral we went to the Alcazar (El-Kasr), or 
Palace of the Moorish Kings. We entered by a long passage, 
with round arches on either side, resting on twin pillars, placed 
at right angles to the line of the arch, as one sees both in 
Saracenic and Byzantine structures. Finally, old BaiUi 
brought us into a dull, deserted court-yard, where we were 
surprised by the sight of an entire Moorish facade, with its 



THE ALCAZAR. 



399 



pointed arches, its projecting roof, its rich sculptured ornaments 
and its illuminations of red, blue, green and gold. It has been 
lately restored, and now rivals in freshness and brilliancy any 
of the rich houses of Damascus. A doorway, entirely too low 
and mean for the splendor of the walls above it, admitted us into 
the first court. On each side of the passage are the rooms of 
the guard and the Moorish nobles. Within, all is pure 
Saracenic, and absolutely perfect in its grace and richness. It 
is the realization of an Oriental dream ; it is the poetry and 
luxury of the East in tangible forms. Where so much depends 
on the proportion and harmony of the different parts — on those 
correspondences, the union of which creates that nameless soul 
of the work, which cannot be expressed in words — it is useless 
to describe details. From first to last — the chambers of state ; 
the fringed arches ; the open tracery, light and frail as the 
frost-stars crystallized on a window-pane ; the courts, fit to be 
vestibules to Paradise ; the audience-hall, with its wondrous 
sculptures, its columns and pavement of marble, and its gilded 
dome ; the garden, gorgeous with its palm, banana, and 
orange-trees — all were in perfect keeping, all jewels of equal 
lustre, forming a diadem which still lends a royal dignity to the 
phantom of Moorish power. 

We then passed into the gardens laid out by the Spanish 
monarchs — trim, mathematical designs,, in box and myrtle, 
with concealed fountains springing up everywhere unawares 
in the midst of the paven walks ; yet still made beautiful 
by the roses and jessamines that hung in rank clusters over the 
marble balustrades, and by the clumps of tall orange trees, 
bending to earth under the weight of their fruitage. We 
afterward visited Pilate's House, as it is called — a fine Span- 



400 



TEE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



ish-Moresco palace, now belonging to the Duke of Medina 
Coeli. It is very rich and elegant, but stands in the same 
relation to the Alcazar as a good copy does to the original 
picture. The grand staircase, nevertheless, is a marvel of tile 
work, unlike anything else in Seville, and exhibits a genius in 
the invention of elaborate ornamental patterns, which is truly 
wonderful. A number of workmen were busy in restoring the 
palace, to fit it for the residence of the young Duke. The 
Moorish sculptures are reproduced in plaster, which, at least, 
has a better effect than the fatal whitewash under which the 
original tints of the Alcazar are hidden. In the courts stand a 
number of Roman busts — Spanish antiquities, and therefore 
not of great merit — singularly out of place in niches sur- 
rounded by Arabic devices and sentences from the Koran. 

This morning, I climbed the Giralda. The sun had just 
risen, and the day was fresh and crystal-clear. A little door 
in the Cathedral, near the foot of the tower, stood open, and I 
entered. A rather slovenly Sevillana had just completed her 
toilet, but two children were still in undress. However, she 
opened a door in the tower, and I went up without hindrance. 
The ascent is by easy ramps, and I walked four hundred yards, 
or nearly a quarter of a mile, before reaching the top of the 
Moorish part. The panoramic view was superb. To the east 
and west, the Great Valley made a level line on a far-distant 
horizon. There were ranges of hills in the north and south, 
and those rising near the city, clothed in a gray mantle of olive- 
trees, were picturesquely crowned with villages. The Guadal- 
quivir, winding in the most sinuous mazes, had no longer a 
turbid hue ; he reflected the blue morning sky, and gleamed 
brightly between his borders of birch and willow. Seville 



OLD WINES MURILLOS. 401 

sparkled white and fair under my feet, her painted towers and 
tiled domes rising thickly out of the mass of buildings. The 
level sun threw shadows into the numberless courts, permitting 
the mixture of Spanish and Moorish architecture to be plainly 
discerned, even at that height. A thin golden vapor softened 
the features of the landscape, towards the sun, while, on the 
opposite side, every object stood out in the sharpest and 
clearest outlines. 

On our way to the Museo, Bailli took us to the house of a 
friend of his, in order that we might taste real Manzanilla 
wine. This is a pale, straw-colored vintage, produced in the 
valley of the Guadalquivir. It is flavored with camomile 
blossoms, and is said to be a fine tonic for weak stomachs. 
The master then produced a dark-red wine, which he declared 
to be thirty years old. It was almost a syrup in consistence, 
and tasted more of sarsaparilla than grapes. None of us 
relished it, except Bailli, who was so inspired by the draught, 
that he sang us two Moorish songs and an Andalusian catch, 
full of fun and drollery. 

The Museo contains a great amount of bad pictures, but it 
also contains twenty-three of MurihVs works, many of them 
of his best period. To those who have only seen his tender, 
spiritual " Conceptions " and " Assumptions," his " Vision of 
St. Francis" in this gallery reveals a mastery of the higher 
walks of his art, which they would not have anticipated. But 
it is in his " Cherubs" and his " Infant Christs" that he excels. 
No one ever painted infantile grace and beauty with so true a 
pencil. There is but one Yelasquez in the collection, and the 
only thing that interested me, in two halls filled with rubbish, 
was a "Conception" by Murillo's mulatto pupil, said by some 



402 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



to have been his slave. Although an imitation of the great 
master, it is a picture of much sweetness and beauty. There 
is no other work of the artist in existence, and this, as the 
only production of the kind by a painter of mixed African 
blood, ought to belong to the Republic of Liberia. 

Among the other guests at the Fonda de Madrid is Mr. 
Thomas Hobhouse, brother of Byron's friend. We had a 
pleasant party in the Court this evening, listening to blind 
Pepe, who sang to his guitar a medley of merry Andalusian 
refrains. Singing made the old man courageous, and, at the 
close, he gave us the radical song of Spain, which is now 
strictly prohibited. The air is charming, but too gay ; one 
would sooner dance than fight to its measures. It does not 
bring the hand to the sword, like the glorious Marseillaise. 

Actios, beautiful Seville ! 



SPANISH DILIGENCE LINES. 



4 OS 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

JOURNEY IN A SPANISH DILIGENCE 

Spanish Diligence Lines — Leaving Seville — Ar Unlucky Start — Alcala of the Bakers- 
Dinner at Carmona — A Dehesa — The Mayoral and his Team — Ecija — Night Journey 
—-Cordova — The Cathedral-Mosque — Moorisa Architecture— The Sierra Morena — A 
Rainy Journey — A Chapter of Accidents — Baylen — The Fascination of Spain — Jaen 
-The Vega of Granada. 

Granada, Novenxber 14, 1852. 

It is an enviable sensation to feel for the first time that yon 
are in Granada. No amount of travelling can weaken the 
romantic interest which clings about this storied place, or take 
away aught from the freshness of that emotion with which you 
first behold it. I sit almost at the foot of the Alhambra, 
whose walls I can see from my window, quite satisfied for to- 
day with being here, It has been raining since I arrived, the 
thunder is crashing overhead, and the mountains are covered 
with clouds, so I am kept in-doors, with the luxury of knowing 
that all the wonders of the place are within my reach. And 
now let me beguile the dull weatner by giving you a sketch of 
my journey from Seville hither. 

There are three lines of stages from Seville to Madrid, and 
their competition has reduced the fare to $12, which, for a ride 
of 350 miles, is remarkably cheap. The trip is usually made 
in three days and a half. A branch line from Baylen — nearly 



404 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



half-way — strikes southward to Granada, and as there is no 
competition on this part of the road, I was charged S15 for a 
through seat in the coupe. On account of the lateness of the 
season, and the limited time at my command, this was prefer- 
able to taking horses and riding across the country from 
Seville to Cordova. Accordingly, at an early hour on 
Thursday morning last, furnished with a travelling ticket 
inscribed : "Don Yaltar de Talor (myself !), I took leave of 
my English friends at the Fonda de Madrid, got into an 
immense, lumbering yellow vehicle, drawn by ten mules, and 
started, trusting to my good luck and bad Spanish to get safely 
through. The commencement, however, was unpropitious, and 
very often a stumble at starting makes the whole journey limp. 
The near mule in the foremost span was a horse, ridden by our 
postillion, and nothing could prevent that horse from darting 
into all sorts of streets and alleys where we had no desire to 
go. As all mules have implicit faith in horses, of course the 
rest of the animals followed. TTe were half an hour in getting 
out of Seville, and when at last we reached the open road and 
dashed off at full gallop, one of the mules in the traces fell and 
was dragged in the dust some twenty or thirty yards before 
we could stop. My companions in the coupe were a young 
Spanish officer and his pretty Andalusian bride, who was mak- 
ing her first journey from home, and after these mishaps was 
in a state of constant fear and anxiety. 

The first stage across the valley of the Guadalquivir took 
us to the town of .Alcala, which lies in the lap of the hills 
above the beautiful little river Guadaira. It is a picturesque 
spot ; the naked cliffs overhanging the stream have the rich, 
red hue of cinnabar, and the trees and shrubbery in the 



DINNER AT CAEM0KA. 



405 



meadows, and on the hill-sides are ready grouped to the 
artist's hand. The town is called Alcala de los Panadores 
(of the Bakers) from its hundreds of flour mills and bake- 
ovens, which supply Seville with those white, fine, delicious 
twists, of which Spain may be justly proud. They should 
have been sent to the Exhibition last year, with the Toledo 
blades and the wooden mosaics. We left the place and its 
mealy-headed population, and turned eastward into wide, roll- 
ing tracts, scattered here and there with gnarled olive trees. 
The soil was loose and sandy, and hedges of aloes lined the 
road. The country is thinly populated, and very little of it 
under cultivation. 

About noon we reached Carmona, which was founded by 
the Romans, as, indeed, were nearly all the towns of Southern 
Spain. It occupies the crest and northern slope of a high 
hill, whereon the ancient Moorish castle still stands. The 
Alcazar, or palace, and the Moorish walls also remain, 
though in a very ruinous condition. Here we stopped to 
dinner, for the " Nueva Peninsular," in which I was embarked, 
has its hotels all along the route, like that of Zurutuza, in 
Mexico. We were conducted into a small room adjoining the 
stables, and adorned with colored prints illustrating the 
history of Don John of Austria. The table-cloths, plates and 
other appendages were of very ordinary quality, but indispu- 
tably clean ; we seated ourselves, and presently the dinner 
appeared. First, a vermicelli pilaff, which I found palatable, 
then the national olla, a dish of enormous yellow peas, 
sprinkled with bits of bacon and flavored with oil ; then three 
successive courses of chicken, boiled, stewed and roasted, but 
in every case done to rags, and without a particle of the origi- 



406 



THE LANDS tF THE SARACEN. 



nal flavor. This was the u^aal style of our meals on the road, 
whether breakfast, dinner or supper, except that kid was 
sometimes substituted for °owl, and that the oil employed, 
being more or less rancid, gave different flavors to the 
dishes. A course of melons, grapes or pomegranates wound 
up the repast, the price o^ which varied from ten to twelve 
reals — a real being about a half-dime. In Seville, at the 
Fonda de Madrid, the cooking is really excellent; but further 
in the interior, judging from what I have heard, it is even 
worse than I have described. 

Continuing our journey, we passed around the southern 
brow of the- hill, under the Moorish battlements. Here a 
superb view opened to the south and east over the wide Yega 
of Carmona, as far as the mountain chain which separates it 
from the plain of Granada. The city has for a coat of arms a 
silver star in an azure field, with the pompous motto : " As 
Lucifer shines in the morning, so shines Carmona in Anda- 
lusia." If it shines at all, it is because it is a city set upon a 
hill ; for that is the only splendor I could find about the place. 
The Vega of Carmona is partially cultivated, and now wears a 
sombre brown hue, from its tracts of ploughed land. 

Cultivation soon ceased, however, and we entered on a 
dehe.sa, a boundless plain of waste land, covered with thickets 
of palmettos. Flocks of goats and sheep, guarded by shep- 
herds in brown cloaks, wandered here and there, and except 
their huts and an isolated house, with its group of palm-trees, 
there was no sign of habitation. The road was a deep, red 
sand, and our mules toiled along slowly and painfully, urged 
by the incessant cries of the mayoral, or conductor, and his 
mozo. As the mayoraPs whip could only reach the second 



THE MAYORAL AND HIS TEAM, 



407 



span, the business of the latter was to jump down every ten 
minutes, run ahead and belabor the flanks of the foremost 
mules, uttering at the same time a series of sharp howls, which 
seemed to strike the poor beasts with quite as much severity 
as his whip. I defy even a Spanish ear to distinguish the 
import of these cries, and the great wonder was how they 
could all come out of one small throat. When it came to a 
hard pull, they cracked and exploded like volleys of musketry, 
and flew like hail-stones about the ears of the machos (he" 
mules).} The postillion, having only the care of the foremost 
span, is a silent man, but he has contracted a habit of sleeping 
in the saddle, which I mention for the benefit of timid 
travellers, as it adds to the interest of a journey by night. 

The clouds which had been gathering all day, now settled 
down upon the plain, and night came on with a dull rain. At 
eight o'clock we reached the City of Ecija, where we had two 
hours' halt and supper. It was so dark and rainy that I 
saw nothing, not even the classic Xenil, the river of Granada, 
which flows through the city on its way to the Guadalquivir. 
The night wore slowly away, and while the mozo drowsed on 
his post, I caught snatches of sleep between his cries. As the 
landscape began to grow distinct in the gray, cloudy dawn, we 
saw before us Cordova, with the dark range of the Sierra Mo- 
rena rising behind it. f This city, once the glory of Moorish 
Spain, the capital of the great Abd-er-Rahman, containing, 
when in its prime, a million of inhabitants, is now a melancholy 
wreck. It has not a shadow of the art, science, and taste 
which then distinguished it, and the only interest it now pos- 
sesses is from these associations, and the despoiled remnant of 
Its renowned Mosque. 



408 



THE LANDS OF TEE SARACEN. 



We crossed the Guadalquivir ou a fine bridge built on 
'Roman foundations, and drove slowly down the one long, 
rough, crooked street. The diligence stops for an hour, to 
allow passengers to breakfast, but my first thought was for the 
Cathedral-mosque, la Mezquita, as it is still called. " It is 
closed," said the ragged crowd that congregated about us ; 
"you cannot get in until eight o'clock." But I remembered 
that a silver key will open anything in Spain, and taking a 
mozo as a guide we hurried off as fast as the rough pavements 
would permit. We had to retrace the whole length of the city, 
but on reaching the Cathedral, found it open. The exterior is 
low, and quite plain, though of great extent. A Moorish gate- 
way admitted me into the original court-yard, or haram, of the 
mosque, which is planted with orange trees and contains the 
fountain, for the ablutions of Moslem worshippers, in the centre. 
The area of the Mosque proper, exclusive of the court-yard, is 
about 400 by 350 feet. It was built on the plan of the great 
Mosque of Damascus, about the end of the eighth century. 
The materials — including twelve hundred columns of marble, 
jasper and porphyry, from the ruins of Carthage, and the 
temples of Asia Minor — belonged to a Christian basilica, of 
the Gothic domination, which was built upon the foundations 
of a Roman temple of Janus ; so that the three great creeds 
of the world have here at different times had their seat. The 
Moors considered this mosque as second in holiness to the 
Kaaba of Mecca, and made pilgrimages to it from all parts of 
Moslem Spain and Barbary. Even now, although shorn of 
much of its glory, it surpasses any Oriental mosque into which 
I have penetrated, except St. Sophia, which is a Christian 
edifice 



THE MOSQUE OF CORDOVA. 



409 



All the nineteen original entrances — beautiful horse-shoe 
arches — are closed, except the central one. I entered by a low 
door, in one corner of the corridor. A wilderness of columns 
connected by double arches (one springing above the other, 
with an opening between), spread their dusky aisles before me 
in the morning twilight. The eight hundred and fifty shafts 
of this marble forest formed labyrinths and mazes, which at 
that early hour appeared boundless, for their long vistas disap- 
peared in the shadows. Lamps were burning before distant 
shrines, and a few worshippers were kneeling silently here and 
there. The sound of my own footsteps, as I wandered through 
the ranks of pillars, was all that I heard. In the centre of 
the wood (for such it seemed) rises the choir, a gaudy and 
tasteless excrescence added by the Christians. Even Charles 
V., who laid a merciless hand on the Alhambra, reproved the 
Bishop of Cordova for this barbarous and unnecessary dis- 
figurement. 

The sacristan lighted lamps in order to show me the Moorish 
chapels. Nothing but the precious materials of which these 
exquisite structures are composed could have saved them from 
the holy hands of the Inquisition, which intentionally destroyed 
all the Roman antiquities of Cordova. Here the fringed 
arches, the lace-like filigrees, the wreathed inscriptions, and the 
domes of pendent stalactites which enchant you in the Alcazar 
of Seville, are repeated, not in stucco, but in purest marble, 
while the entrance to the " holy of holies" is probably the most 
glorious piece of mosaic in the world. The pavement of the 
interior is deeply worn by the knees of the Moslem pilgrims, 
who compassed it seven times, kneeling, as they now do in the 
Kaaba, at Mecca. The sides are embroidered with sentences 

18 



410 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



from the Koran, in Cufic characters, and the roof is in the 
form of a fluted shell, of a single piece of pure white marble, 
fifteen feet in diameter. The roof of the vestibule is a won* 
derful piece of workmanship, formed of pointed arches, wreathed 
and twined through each other, like basket-work. No people 
ever wrought poetry into stone so perfectly as the Saracens 
In looking on these precious relics of an elegant and refined 
race, I cannot help feeling a strong regret that their kingdom 
ever passed into other hands. 

Leaving Cordova,. our road followed the Guadalquivir, along 
the foot of the Sierra Morena, which rose dark and stern, a 
barrier to the central table-lands of La Mancha. At Alcolea, 
we crossed the river on a noble bridge of black marble, out of 
all keeping with the miserable road. It rained incessantly, 
and the scenery through which we passed had a wild and 
gloomy character. The only tree to be seen was the olive, 
which covered the hills far and near, the profusion of its fruit 
showing the natural richness of the soil. This part of the 
road is sometimes infested with robbers, and once, when I saw 
two individuals waiting for us in a lonely defile, with gun-bar- 
rels thrust out from under their black cloaks, I anticipated a 
recurrence of a former unpleasant experience. But they proved 
to be members of the guardia civil, and therefore our pro- 
tectors. 

The ruts and quagmires, made by the rain, retarded our pro- 
gress, and it was dark when we reached Andujar, fourteen 
leagues from Cordova. To Baylen, where I was to quit the 
diligence, and take another coming down from Madrid to 
Granada, was four leagues further. We journeyed on in the 
dark, in a pouring rain, up and clown hill for some hours, 



A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 



411 



when all at once the cries of the mozo ceased, and the diligence 
came to a dead stop. There was some talk between our con- 
ductors, and then the mayoral opened the door and invited us 
to get out. The postillion had fallen asleep, and the mules Had 
taken us into a wrong road. An attempt was made to turn 
the diligence, but failed, leaving it standing plump against a 
high bank of mud. We stood, meanwhile, shivering in the 
cold and wet, and the fair Andalusian shed abundance of tears. 
Fortunately, Baylen was close at hand, and, after some delay, 
two men came with lanterns and escorted us to the posada, or 
inn, where we arrived at midnight. The diligence from Madrid, 
which was due six hours before, had not made its appearance, 
and we passed the rest of the night in a cold room, fasting, 
for the meal was only to be served when the other passengers 
came. At day-break, finally, a single dish of oily meat was 
vouchsafed to us, and, as it was now certain that some acci- 
dent had happened, the passengers to Madrid requested the 
Administrador to send them on in an extra conveyance. This 
he refused, and they began to talk about getting up a pronun- 
ciamento, when a messenger arrived with the news that the 
diligence had broken down at midnight, about two leagues off. 
Tools were thereupon dispatched, nine hours after the accident 
happened, and we might hope to be released from our imprison- 
ment in four or five more. 

Baylen is a wretched place, celebrated for having the first 
palm-tree which those see who come from Madrid, and for the 
victory gained by Castanos over the French forces under 
Dupont, which occasioned the flight of Joseph Buonaparte 
from Madrid, and the temporary liberation of Spain from the 
French yoke. Castaiios, who received the title of Duke de 



412 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



Baylen, and is compared by the Spaniards to Wellington, died 
about three months ago. The battle-field I passed in the 
night ; the palm-tree I found, but it is now a mere stump, 
the leaves having been stripped off to protect the houses of 
the inhabitants from lightning. Our posada had one of them 
hung at the window. At last, the diligence came, and at three 
p.m., when I ought to have been in sight of Granada, I left the 
forlorn walls of Baylen. My fellow-passengers were a young 
sprig of the Spanish nobility and three chubby-faced nuns. 

The rest of the journey that afternoon was through a wide, 
hilly region, entirely bare of trees and habitations, and but 
partially cultivated. There was something sublime in its very 
nakedness and loneliness, and I felt attracted to it as I do 
towards the Desert. In fact, although I have seen little fine 
scenery since leaving Seville, have had the worst of weather, 
and no very pleasant travelling experiences, the country has 
exercised a fascination over me, which I do not quite under- 
stand. I find myself constantly on the point of making a vow 
to return again. Much to my regret, night set in before we 
reached Jaen, the capital of the Moorish kingdom of that 
name. We halted for a short time in the large plaza of the 
town, where the dash of fountains mingled with the sound of 
the rain, and the black, jagged outline of a mountain over- 
hanging the place was visible through the storm. 

All night we journeyed on through the mountains, some- 
times splashing through swollen streams, sometimes coming 
almost to a halt in beds of deep mud. When this morning 
dawned, we were ascending through wild, stony hills, over- 
grown with shrubbery, and the driver said we were six leagues 
from Granada. Still on, through a lonely country, with now 



THE VEGA OF GRANADA. 



413 



and then a large venta, or country inn, by the road-side, and 
about nine o'clock, as the sky became more clear, I saw in 
front of us, high up under the clouds, the snow-fields of the 
Sierra Nevada. An hour afterwards we were riding between 
gardens, vineyards, and olive orchards, with the magnificent 
Vega of Granada stretching far away on the right, and the 
Vermilion Towers of the Alhambra crowning the heights 
before us. 



414 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA. 

Mateo Ximenez, the Younger — The Cathedral of Granada — A Monkish Miracle — Catholio 
Shrines — Military Cherubs — The Royal Chapel — The Tombs of Ferdinand and Isa- 
bella — Chapel of San Juan de Dios — The Albaycin — View of the Vega — The Generalife— 
The Alhambra— Torra de la Vela— The Walls and Towers— A Visit to Old Mateo— 
The Court of the Fish-pond — The Halls of the Alhambra — Character of the Architec- 
ture — Hall of the Abencerrages — Hall of the Two Sisters — The Moorish Dynasty in 
Spain. 

u Who has not in Granada been, 
Verily, he has nothing seen." 

Andahisian Proverb. 

Granada, Wednesday > Nov. 17, 1852. 

Immediately on reaching here, I was set upon by an old 
gentleman who wanted to act as guide, but the mozo of 
the hotel put into my hand a card inscribed "Don Mateo 
Ximenez, Guide to the celebrated Washington Irving," and I 
dismissed the other applicant. The next morning, as the mozo 
brought me my chocolate, he said ; " Senor, el chico is waiting 
for you." The "little one" turned out to be the son of old 
Mateo, "honest Mateo," who still lives up in the Alhambra, 
but is now rather too old to continue his business, except on 
great occasions. I accepted the young Mateo, who spoke with 
the greatest enthusiasm of Mr. Irving, avowing that the whole 
family was devoted to him, in life and death. It was still 



THE CATHEDRAL OF GRANADA. 



415 



raining furiously, and the golden Darro, which roars in 
front of the hotel, was a swollen brown flood. I don't 
wonder that he sometimes threatens, as the old couplet says, 
to burst up the Zacatin, and bear it down to his bride, the 
Xenil. 

Towards noon, the clouds broke away a little, and we sallied 
out. Passing through the gate and square of Vivarrambla 
(may not this name come from the Arabic lab er-raml, the 
"gate of the sand?"), we soon reached the Cathedral. This 
massive structure, which makes a good feature in the distant 
view of Granada, is not at all imposing, near at hand. The 
interior is a mixture of Gothic and Roman, glaring with white- 
wash, and broken, like that of Seville, by a wooden choir and 
two grand organs, blocking up the nave. Some of the side 
chapels, nevertheless, are splendid masses of carving and gild- 
ing. In one of them, there are two full-length portraits of 
Ferdinand and Isabella, supposed to be by Alonzo Cano. The 
Cathedral contains some other good pictures by the same 
master, but all its former treasures were carried off by the 
French. 

We next went to the Picture Gallery, which is in the Fran- 
ciscan Convent. There are two small Murillos, much damaged, 
some tolerable Alonzo Canos, a few common-place pictures 
by Juan de Sevilla, and a hundred or more by authors whose 
names I did not inquire, for a more hideous collection of trash 
never met my eye. One of them represents a miracle per- 
formed by two saints, who cut off the diseased leg of a sick 
white man, and replace it by the sound leg of a dead negro, 
whose body is seen lying beside the bed. Judging from the 
ghastly face of the patient, the operation is rather painful, 



416 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



though the story goes that the black leg grew fast, and the 
man recovered. The picture at least illustrates the absence of 
"prejudice of color" among the Saints. 

We went into the adjoining Church of Santo Domingo, 
which ha? several very rich shrines of marble and gold. A 
sort of priestly sacristan opened the Church of the Madonna 
del Rosario — a glittering mixture of marble, gold, and looking- 
glasses, which has rather a rich effect. The beautiful yellow 
and red veined marbles are from the Sierra Nevada. The 
sacred Madonna — a big doll with staring eves and pink cheeks 
—has a dress of silver, shaped like an extinguisher, and 
encrusted with rubies and other precious stones. The utter 
absence of taste in most Catholic shrines is an extraordinary 
thing. It seems remarkable that a Church which has produced 
so many glorious artists should so constantly and grossly vio- 
late the simplest rules of art. The only shrine which I have 
seen, which was in keeping with the object adored, is that of 
the Virgin, at Xazareth, where there is neither picture nor 
image, but only vases of fragrant flowers, and perfumed oil in 
golden lamps, burning before a tablet of spotless marble. 

Among the decorations of the chapel, there are a host of 
cherubs frescoed on the ceiling, and one of them is represented 
in the act of firing off a blunderbuss. " Is it true that the 
angels carry blunderbusses ?" I asked the priest. He shrugged 
his shoulders with a sort of half-smile, and said nothing. In 
the Cathedral, on the plinths of the columns in the outer 
aisles, are several notices to the effect that " whoever speaks 
to women, either in the nave or the aisles, thereby puts him- 
self in danger of excommunication." I could not help laugh- 
ing, as I read this monkish and yet most Knmonk-like statute 



THE ROYAL CHAPEL. 



417 



"Oh," said Mateo, " all that was in the despotic times ; it is 
not so now." 

A deluge of rain put a stop to my sight-seeing until the next 
morning, when I set out with Mateo to visit the Royal Chapel. 
A murder had been committed in the night, near the entrance 
of the Zacatin, and the paving-stones were still red with the 
blood of the victim. A funcion of some sort was going on in 
the Chapel, and we went into the sacristy to wait. The priests 
and choristers were there, changing their robes ; they saluted 
me good-humoredly, though there was an expression in their 
faces that plainly said : " a heretic !" When the service was 
concluded, I went into the chapel and examined the high altar, 
with its rude wood-carvings, representing the surrender of 
Granada. The portraits of Ferdinand and Isabella, Cardinal 
Ximenez, Gonzalvo of Cordova, and King Boabdil, are very 
curious. Another tablet represents the baptism of the con- 
quered Moors. 

In the centre of the chapel stand the monuments erected to 
Ferdinand and Isabella, and their successors Philip I., and 
Maria, by Charles V. They are tall catafalques of white 
marble, superbly sculptured, with the full length effigies of the 
monarchs upon them. The figures are admirable ; that of 
Isabella, especially, though the features are settled in the 
repose of death, expresses all the grand and noble traits which 
belonged to her character. The sacristan removed the mat- 
ting from a part of the floor, disclosing an iron grating under- 
neath. A damp, mouldly smell, significant of death and 
decay, came up through the opening. He lighted two long- 
waxen tapers, lifted the grating, and I followed him down the 
narrow steps into the vault where lie the coffins of the Catho- 

18* 



418 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



lie Sovereigns. They were brought here from the Alhambra, 
in 1525. The leaden sarcophagi, containing the bodies of 
Ferdinand and Isabella, lie, side by side, on stone slabs ; and 
as I stood between the two, resting a hand on each, the sacris- 
tan placed the tapers in apertures in the stone, at the head 
and foot. They sleep, as they wished, in their beloved Gra- 
nada, and no profane hand has ever disturbed the repose of 
their ashes. 

After visiting the Church of San Jeronimo, founded by Gon 
zalvo of Cordova, I went to the adjoining Church and Hospi 
tal of San Juan de Dios. A fat priest, washing his hands in 
the sacristy, sent a boy to show me the Chapel of San Juan, 
and the relics. The remains of the Saint rest in a silver chest, 
standing in the centre of a richly-adorned chapel. Among 
the relics is a thorn from the crown of Christ, which, as any 
botanist may see, must have grown on a different plant from 
the other thorn they show at Seville ; and neither kind 
is found in Palestine. The true spina christi, the nebbuk, has 
very small thorns ; but nothing could be more cruel, as I 
found when riding through patches of it near Jericho. The 
boy also showed me a tooth of San Lorenzo, a crooked brown 
bicuspis, from which I should infer that the saint was rather an 
ill-favored man. The gilded chapel of San Juan is in singular 
contrast with one of the garments which he wore when living 
— a cowl of plaited reeds, looking like an old fish basket — 
which is kept in a glass case, His portrait is also to be seen : 
a mild and beautiful face, truly that of one who went about 
doing good. He was a sort of Spanish John Howard, and 
deserved canonization, if anybody ever did. 

I ascended the street of the Darro to the Albaycin, which 



VIEW OF THE VEGA. 



Aid 



we entered by one of the ancient gates. This suburb is still 
surrounded by the original fortifications, and undermined by 
the capacious cisterns of the Moors. It looks down on Gra- 
nada ; and from the crumbling parapets there are superb views 
over the city, the Vega, and its inclosing mountains. The 
Alhambra rose opposite, against the dark-red and purple back- 
ground of the Sierra Nevada, and a canopy of heavy rain- 
clouds rested on all the heights. A fitful gleam of sunshine 
now and then broke through and wandered over the plain, 
touching up white towers and olive groves and reaches of the 
winding Xenil, with a brilliancy which suggested the splendor 
of the whole picture, if once thus restored to its proper light. 
I could see Santa Fe in the distance, toward Loxa ; nearer, 
and more eastward, the Sierra de Elvira, of a deep violet 
color, with the woods of the Soto de Roma, the Duke of Wel- 
lington's estate, at its base ; and beyond it the Mountain of 
Parapanda, the weather-guage of Granada, still covered with 
clouds. There is an old Granadian proverb which says : — 
" When Parapanda wears his bonnet, it will rain whether God 
wills it or no." From the chapel of San Miguel, above the 
Albaycin, there is a very striking view of the deep gorge of 
the Darro, at one's feet, with the gardens and white walls of 
the Generalife rising beyond, and the Silla del Moro and the 
Mountain of the Sun towering above it. The long, irregular 
lines of the Alhambra, with the hLge red towers rising here ant 
there, reminded me somewhat of a distant view of Karnak ; 
and, like Karnak, the Alhambra is picturesque from whatever 
point it is viewed. 

We descended through wastes of cactus to the Darro, in 
whose turbid stream a group of men were washing for gold. I 



420 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



watched one of them, as he twirled his bowl in precisely 
the California style, but got nothing for his pains. Matec 
says that they often make a dollar a day, each. Passing under 
the Tower of Comares and along the battlements of the 
Alhambra, we climbed up to the Generalife. This charming 
villa is still in good preservation, though its exquisite filigree 
and scroll-work have been greatly injured by whitewash. 
The elegant colonnades surround gardens rich in roses, 
myrtles and cypresses, and the fountains that lulled the Moor- 
ish Kings in their summer idleness still pour their fertilizing 
streams. In one of the rooms is a small and bad portrait gal- 
lery, containing a supposed portrait of Boabdil. It is a mild, 
amiable face, but wholly lacks strength of character. 

To-day I devoted to the Alhambra. The storm, which, as 
ihe people say, has not been equalled for several years, showed 
no signs of breaking up, and in the midst of a driving shower 
I ascended to the Vermilion Towers, which are supposed to 
be of Phoenician origin. They stand on the extremity of a 
long, narrow ledge, which stretches out like an arm from the 
hill of the Alhambra. The paseo lies between, and is shaded 
by beautiful elms, which the Moors planted. 

I entered the Alhambra by the Gate of Justice, which is a 
fine specimen of Moorish architecture, though of common red 
brick and mortar. It is singular what a grace the horse-shoe 
arch gives to the most heavy and mmbering mass of masonry. 
The round arches of the Christian edifices of Granada seem 
tame and inelegant, in comparison. Over the arch of the ves- 
tibule of this gate is the colossal hand, and over the inner 
entrance the key, celebrated in the tales of Washington Irving 
and the superstitions of the people. I first ascended the Torre 



WALLS AND TOWERS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 421 

de la Vela, where the Christian flag was first planted on the 
2d of January, 1492. |The view of the Yega and City of Gra- 
nada was even grander than from the Albaycin. Parapanda 
was still bonneted in clouds, but patches of blue sky began to 
open above the mountains of Loxa. A little boy accompanied 
us, to see that I did not pull the bell, the sound of which 
would call together all the troops in the city. While we 
stood there, the funeral procession of the man murdered two 
nights before came up the street of Gomerez, and passed 
around the hill under the Yermilion Towers. 

I made the circuit of the walls before entering the Palace. 
In the Place of the Cisterns, I stopped to take a drink of^ the 
cool water of the Darro, which is brought thither by subterra- 
nean channels from the hills. Then, passing the ostentatious 
pile commenced by Charles Y., but which was never finished, 
and never will be, nor ought to be, we walked along the 
southern ramparts to the Tower of the Seven Floors, amid the 
ruins of which I discerned the top of the arch by which the 
unfortunate Boabdil quitted Granada, and which was thence- 
forth closed for ever. In the Tower of the Infantas, a number 
of workmen were busy restoring the interior, which has been 
cruelly damaged. The brilliant azulejo, or tile-work, the deli- 
cate arches and filigree sculpture of the walls, still attest its 
former elegance, and give some color to the tradition that it 
was the residence of the Moorish Princesses. 

As we passed through the little village which still exists 
among the ruins of the fortress, Mateo invited me to step in 
and see his father, the genuine " honest Mateo," immortalized 
in the " Tales of the Alhambra." The old man has taken up 
the trade of silk-weaving, and had a number of gay-colored 



422 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



ribbons on his loom. He is more than sixty years old and 
now qnite gray-headed, but has the same simple manners, the 
same honest face that attracted his temporary master. He 
spoke with great enthusiasm of Mr. Irving, and brought out 
from a place of safety the "Alhambra" and the "Chronicles 
of the Conquest," which he has carefully preserved. He then 
produced an Andalusian sash, the work of his own hands, 
which he insisted on binding around my waist, to see how it 
would look. I must next take off my coat and hat, and put on 
his Sunday jacket and jaunty sombrero. 11 For Dios /" he 
exclaimed: 11 que bum mozo ! Senor, you are a legitimate t 
Andalusian !" After this, of course, I could do no less than 
buy the sash. "You must show it to Washington Irving," 
said he, " and tell him it was made by Mateo's own hands f 
which I promised. I must then go into the kitchen, and eat a 
pomegranate from his garden — a glorious pomegranate, with 
kernels of crimson, and so full of blood that you could not 
touch them but it trickled through your fingers. El Marques, 
a sprightly dog, and a great slate-colored cat, took possession 
of my legs, and begged for a share of every mouthful I took, 
while old Mateo sat beside me, rejoicing in the flavor of a 
Gibraltar cigar which I gave him. But my time was precious, 
and so I let the " Son of the Alhambra" go back to his loom, 
and set out for the Palace of the Moorish Kings. 

This palace is so hidden behind the ambitious shell of that 
of Charles Y. that I was at a loss where it could be. I 
thought I had compassed the hill, and yet had seen no indica- 
tions of the renowned magnificence of the Alhambra. But a 
little door in a blank wall ushered me into a true Moorish 
realm, the Court of the Fishpond, or of the Myrtles, as it is 



THE HALL OF LIONS. 



423 



sometimes called. Here I saw again the slender pillars, the 
fringed and embroidered arches, and the perforated, lace-like 
tracery of the fairy corridors. Here, hedges of roses and myr- 
tles still bloomed around the ancient tank, wherein hundreds of 
gold-fish disported. The noises of the hill do not penetrate 
here, and the solitary porter who admitted me went back 
to his post, and suffered me to wander at will through the 
enchanted halls. 

I passed out of this court by an opposite door, and saw, 
through the vistas of marble pillars and the wonderful fret- 
work which seems % thing of air rather than of earth, the 
Fountain of the x^ions. Thence I entered in succession the 
Hall of the Abencerrages, the Hall of the Two Sisters, the 
apartments of the Sultanas, the Mosque, and the Hall of the 
Ambassadors. These places — all that is left of the renowned 
palace — are now well kept, and carefully guarded. Restora- 
tions are going on, here and there, and the place is scrupu- 
lously watched, that no foreign Vandal may further injure 
what the native Goths have done their best to destroy. The 
rubbish has been cleared away ; the rents in the walls have 
been filled up, and, for the first time since it passed into 
Spanish hands, there seems a hope that the Aihambra will be 
allowed to stand. What has been already destroyed we can 
only partially conjecture ; but no one sees what remains with- 
out completing the picture in his own imagination, and placing 
it among the most perfect and marvellous creations of human 
genius. 

Nothing can exceed the richness of invention which, in this 
series of halls, corridors, and courts, never repeats the same orna- 
ments, but, from the simplest primitive forms and colors, produces 



424 THE LAXD3 OF THE SARACEN". 

a thousand combinations, not one of which is in discord with the 
grand design. It is useless to attempt a detailed description of 
this architecture ; and it is so unlike anything else in the world, 
that, like Karnak and Baalbec, those only know the Alhanibra 
who see it. When you can weave stone, and hang your halls 
with marble tapestry, you may rival it. It is nothing to me 
that these ornaments are stucco ; to sculpture them in marble 
is only the work of the hands. Their great excellence is in the 
design, which, like all great things, suggests even more than it 
gives. If I could create all that the Court of Lions suggested 
to me for its completion, it would fulfil the dream of King 
Sheddad, and surpass the palaces of the Moslem Paradise. 

The pavilions of the Court of Lions, and the halls which 
open into it, on either side, approach the nearest to their origi- 
nal perfection. The floors are marble, the wainscoting of 
painted tiles, the walls of embroidery, still gleaming with the 
softened lustre of their original tints, and the lofty conical 
domes seem to be huge sparry crystalizations, hung with drop- 
ping stalactites, rather than any work of the human hand. 
Each of these domes is composed of five thousand separate 
pieces, and the pendent prismatic blocks, colored and gilded, 
gradually resolve themselves, as you gaze, into the most intri- 
cate and elegant designs. But you must study long ere you 
have won all the secret of their beauty. To comprehend them, 
one should spend a whole day, lying on his back, under each 
one. Mateo spread his cloak for me in the fountain in the 
Hall of the Abencerrages, over the blood-stains made by the 
decapitation of those gallant chiefs, and I lay half an hour 
looking upward : and this is what I made out of the dome. 
From its central pinnacle hung the chalice of a flower with 



I 

THE MARVELLOUS DOMES. 425 

feathery petals, like the "crape myrtle " of our Southern States. 
Outside of this, branched downward the eight rays of a large 
star, whose points touched the base of the dome ; yet the star 
was itself composed of flowers, while between its rays and 
around its points fell a shower of blossoms, shells, and sparry 
drops. From the base of the dome hung a gorgeous pattern 
of lace, with a fringe of bugles, projecting into eight points so 
as to form a star of drapery, hanging from the points of the 
flowery star in the dome. The spaces between the angles were 
filled with masses of stalactites, dropping one below the other, 
till they tapered into the plain square sides of the hall. 

In the Hall of the Two Sisters, I lay likewise for a con- 
siderable time, resolving its misty glories into shape. The 
dome was still more suggestive of flowers. The highest and 
central piece was a deep trumpet-flower, whose mouth was 
cleft into eight petals. It hung in the centre of a superb 
lotus-cup, the leaves of which were exquisitely veined and 
chased. Still further below swung a mass of mimosa blossoms, 
intermixed with pods and lance-like leaves, and around the 
base of the dome opened the bells of sixteen gorgeous tulips. 
These pictures may not be very intelligible, but I know not 
how else to paint the effect of this fairy architecture. 

In Granada, as in Seville and Cordova, one's sympathies are 
wholly with the Moors. The few mutilated traces which still 
remain of their power, taste, and refinement, surpass any of the 
monuments erected by the race which conquered them. The 
Moorish Dynasty in Spain was truly, as Irving observes, a 
splendid exotic, doomed never to take a lasting root in the soil. 
It was choked to death by the native weeds ; and, in place of 
lands richly cultivated and teeming with plenty, we now have 



426 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



barren and almost depopulated wastes — in place of education, 
industry, and the cultivation of the arts and sciences, an 
enslaved, ignorant and degenerate race. Andalusia would be 
far more prosperous at this day, had she remained in Moslem 
hands. True, she would not have received that Faith which 
is yet destined to be the redemption of the world, but the doc- 
trines of Mahomet are more acceptable to God, and more 
beneficial to Man than those of that Inquisition, which, in 
Spain alone, has shed ten times as much Christian blood as all 
the Moslem races together for the last six centuries. It is not 
from a mere romantic interest that I lament the fate of Boab- 
dil, and the extinction of his dynasty. Had he been a king 
worthy to reign in those wonderful halls, he never would have 
left them. Had he perished there, fighting to the last, he 
would have been freed from forty years of weary exile and an 
obscure death. Well did Charles V. observe, when speaking 
of him : " Better a tomb in the Alhambra than a palace' in the 
Alpujarras V 9 



CHANGE OF WEATHER. 



4:27 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE BRIDLE-ROADS OF ANDALUSIA. 

Change <rf Weather — Napoleon and his Horses — Departure from Granada— My G-uide, 
Jose Garcia — His Domestic Troubles — The Tragedy of the Umbrella — The Vow against 
Aguardiente — Crossing the Vega — The Sierra Nevada — The Baths of Alhama — " Woe 
is Me, Alhama !" — The Valley of the River Velez — Velez Malaga — The Coast Road — 
The Fisherman and his Donkey — Malaga — Summer Scenery — The Story of Don Pedro, 
without Fear and without Care — The Field of Monda — A Lonely Venta. 

Venta de Vujlalon, November 20, 1852. 

The clouds broke away before I had been two hours in the 
Alhainbra, and the sunshine fell broad and warm into its 
courts. They must be roofed with blue sky, in order to give 
the full impression of their brightness and beauty. Mateo 
procured me a bottle of vino rando, and we drank it together 
in the Court of Lions. Six hours had passed away before I 
knew it, and I reluctantly prepared to leave. The clouds by 
this time had disappeared ; the Vega slept in brilliant sunshine, 
and the peaks of the Sierra Nevada shone white and cold 
against the sky. 

On reaching the hotel, I found a little man, nicknamed 
Napoleon^ awaiting me. He was desirous to furnish me with 
horses, and, having a prophetic knowledge of the weather, 
promised me a bright sky as far as Gibraltar. " I furnish all 
the senors," said he ; "they know me, and never complain of 



428 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



*ne or my horses but, by way of security, on making the bar- 
gain, I threatened to put up a card in the hotel at Gibraltar, 
warning all travellers against him, in case I was not satisfied. 
My contract was for two horses and a guide, who were to be 
ready at sunrise the next morning. Napoleon was as good as 
his word ; and before I had finished an early cup of chocolate, 
there was a little black Andalusian stallion awaiting me. The 
alforjas, or saddle-bags, of the guide were strengthened by a 
stock of cold provisions, the leathern bota hanging beside it 
was filled with ripe Granada wine ; and now behold me ambling 
over the Vega, accoutred in a gay Andalusian jacket, a sash 
woven by Mateo Ximenes, and one of those bandboxy som- 
breros, which I at first thought so ungainly, but now consider 
quite picturesque and elegant. 

My guide, a short but sinewy and well-knit son of the moun- 
tains, named Jose Garcia, set off at a canter down the banks 
of the Darro. " Don't ride so fast !' ? cried Napoleon, who 
watched our setting out, from the door of the fonda ; but 
Jose was already out of hearing. This guide is a companion 
to my liking. Although he is only twenty-seven, he has been 
for a number of years a correo, or mail-rider, and a guide for 
travelling parties. His olive complexion is made still darker 
by exposure to the sun and wind, and his coal-black eyes shine 
with Southern heat and fire. He has one of those rare mouths 
which are born with a broad smile in each corner, and which 
seem to laugh even in the midst of grief. We had not been 
two hours together, before I knew his history from beginning 
to end. He had already been married eight years, and his 
only trouble was a debt of twenty-four dollars, which the illness 
of his wife had caused him. This money was owing to the 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE UMBRELLA. 



429 



pawnbroker, who kept his best clothes in pledge until he could 
pay it. "Senor," said he, "if I had ten million dollars, I 
would rather give them all away than have a sick wife." He 
had a brother in Puerto Principe, Cuba, who sent over money 
enough to pay the rent of the house, but he found that child- 
ren were a great expense. " It is most astonishing," he said, 
" how much children can eat. From morning till night, the 
bread is never out of their mouths." 

Jose has recently been travelling with some Spaniards, one 
of whom made him pay two dollars for an umbrella which was 
lost on the road. This umbrella is a thorn in his side. At 
every venta where we stop, the story is repeated, and he is not 
sparing of his maledictions. The ghost of that umbrella is 
continually raised, and it will be a long time before he can shut 
it. " One reason why I like to travel with foreign Senors," 
said he to me, "is, that when I lose anything, they never make 
me pay for it." " For all that," I answered, " take care you 
don't lose my umbrella : it cost three dollars." Since then, 
nothing can exceed Jose's attention to that article. He is at 
his wit's end how to secure it best. It appears sometimes 
before, sometimes behind him, lashed to the saddle with innu- 
merable cords ; now he sticks it into the alforja, now carries 
it in his hand, and I verily believe that he sleeps with it in his 
arms. Every evening, as he tells his story to the muleteers, 
around the kitchen fire, he always winds up by triumphantly 
appealing to me with : " Well, Senor, have I lost your umbrella 
yet ?" 

Our bargain is that I shall feed him on the way, and as we 
travel in the primitive style of the country, we always sit down 
together to the same dish. To his supervision, the olla is 



430 



THE LANDS OF THE SARaCEN. 



often indebted for an additional flavor, and no "thorough-bred" 
gentleman could behave at table with more ease and propriety. 
He is as moderate as a Bedouin in his wants, and never touches 
the burning aguardiente which the muleteers are accustomed 
to drink. I asked him the reason of this. "I drink wine, 
Senor," he replied, " because that, you know, is like meat and 
bread ; but I have made a vow never to drink aguardiente 
again. Two of us got drunk on it, four or five years ago, in 
Granada, and we quarrelled. My comrade drew his knife and 
stabbed me here, in the left shoulder. I was furious and cut 
him across the breast. We both went to the hospital — I for 
three months and he for six — and he died in a few days after 
getting out. It cost my poor father many a thousand reals ; 
and when I was able to go to work, I vowed before the Virgin 
that I would never touch aguardiente again." 

For the first league, our road lay over the rich Vega of 
Granada, but gradually became wilder and more waste. Pass- 
ing the long, desert ridge, known as the "Last Sigh of the 
Moor," we struck across a region of low hills. The road was 
very deep, from the recent rains, and studded, at short inter- 
vals, by rude crosses, erected to persons who had been mur- 
dered. Jose took a grim delight in giving me the history of 
each. Beyond the village of Lamala, which lies with its salt- 
pans in a basin of the hills, we ascended the mountain ridge 
which forms the southern boundary of the Vega, Granada, 
nearly twenty miles distant, was still visible. The Alhambra 
was dwindled to a speck, and I took my last view of it and the 
magnificent landscape which lies spread out before it. The 
Sierra Nevada, rising to the height of 13,000 feet above the 
sea, was perfectly free from clouds, and the whole range was 



THE G0EGE OF ALHAMA. 



4S1 



visible at one glance. All its chasms were filled with snow, 
and for nearly half-way down its sides there was not a speck 
of any other color. Its summits were almost wholly devoid 
of shadow, and their notched and jagged outlines rested 
flatly against the sky, like ivory inlaid on a table of lapis- 
lazuli. 

Erom these waste hills, we descended into the valley of 
Cacia, whose poplar-fringed river had been so swollen by the 
rains that the correo from Malaga had only succeeded in pass- 
ing it that morning. We forded it without accident, and, 
crossing a loftier and bleaker range, came down into the valley 
of the Marchan. High on a cliff over the stream stood 
Alhama, my resting-place for the night. The natural warm 
baths, on account of which this spot was so beloved by the 
Moors, are still resorted to in the summer. They lie in the 
bosom of a deep and rugged gorge, half a mile further down 
the river. The town occupies the crest of a narrow promon- 
tory, bounded, on all sides but one, by tremendous precipices. 
It is one of the most picturesque spots imaginable, and 
reminded me — to continue the comparison between Syria and 
Andalusia, which I find so striking — of the gorge of the Bar- 
rada, near Damascus. Alhama is now a poor, insignificant 
town, only visited by artists and muleteers. The population 
wear long brown cloaks and slouched hats, like the natives of 
La Mancha. 

I found tolerable quarters in a house on the plaza, and took 
the remaining hour of daylight to view the town. The people 
looked at me with curiosity, and some boys, walking on the 
edge of the tajo, or precipice, threw over stones that I might 
see how deep it was. The rock, in some places, quite over- 



432 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



hung the bed of the Marchan, which half-girdles its base. The 
close scrutiny to which I was subjected by the crowd in the 
plaza called to mind all I had heard of Spanish spies and rob- 
bers. At the venta, I was well treated, but received such an 
exorbitant bill in the morning that I was ready to exclaim, 
with King Boabdil, " Woe is me, Alhama l n On comparing 
notes with Jose, I found that he had been obliged to pay, in 
addition, for what he received — a discovery which so exaspe- 
rated that worthy that he folded his hands, bowed his head, 
made three kisses in the air, and cried out : "I swear before 
the Virgin that I will never again take a traveller to that 
inn." 

We left Alhama an hour before daybreak, for we had a 
rough journey of more than forty miles before us. The bridle- 
path was barely visible in the darkness, but we continued 
ascending to a height of probably 5,000 feet above the sea, 
and thus met the sunrise half-way. Crossing the llano of Ace 
faraya, we reached a tremendous natural portal in the moun- 
tains, from whence, as from a door, we looked down on all the 
country lying between us and the sea. The valley of the 
River Yelez, winding among the hills, pointed out the course 
of our road. On the left towered over us the barren Sierra 
Tejeda, an isolated group of peaks, about 8,000 feet in height. 
For miles, the road was a rocky ladder, which we scrambled 
down on foot, leading our horses. The vegetation gradually 
became of a warmer and more luxuriant cast ; the southern 
slopes were planted with the vine that produces the famous 
Malaga raisins, and the orange groves in the sunny depths of 
the valleys were as yellow as autumnal beeches, with their 
enormous loads of fruit. As the bells of Yelez Malaga were 



THE INN AT VELEZ MALAGA. 



433 



ringing noon, we emerged from the mountains, near the mouth 
of the river, and rode into the town to breakfast. 

We halted at a queer old inn, more like a Turkish khan 
than a Christian hostlery. It was kept by a fat landlady, who 
made us an olla of kid and garlic, which, with some coarse 
bread and the red Malaga wine, soon took off the sharp edge 
of our mountain appetites. While I was washing my hands 
at a well in the court-yard, the mozo noticed the pilgrim-seal 
of Jerusalem, which is stamped indelibly on my left arm. His 
admiration and reverence were so great that he called the fat 
landlady, who, on learning that it had been made in Jerusalem, 
and that I had visited the Holy Sepulchre, summoned her chil- 
dren to see it. " Here, my children I" she said ; " cross your- 
selves, kneel down, and kiss this holy seal ; for, as long as you 
live, you may never see the like of it again." Thus I, a Pro- 
testant heretic, became a Catholic shrine. The children knelt 
and kissed my arm with touching simplicity ; and the seal will 
henceforth be more sacred to me than ever. 

The remaining twenty miles or more of the road to Malaga 
follow the line of the coast, passing headlands crowned by the 
atalayas, or watch-towers, of the Moors. It is a new road, and 
practicable for carriages, so that, for Spain, it may be con- 
sidered an important achievement. The late rains have, how- 
ever, already undermined it in a number of places. Here, as 
among the mountains, we met crowds of muleteers, all of whom 
greeted me with: "Vaya usted con Dios, caballero!" — ("May 
you go with God, cavalier !") By this time, all my forgotten 
Spanish had come back again, and a little experience of the 
simple ways of the people made me quite at home among them. 
In almost every instance, I was treated precisely as a Spaniard 

19 



404 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 



would have been, and less annoyed by the curiosity of the 
natives than I have been in Germany, and even America 

"We were still two leagues from Malaga, at sunset. The 
fishermen along the coast were hauling in their nets, and we 
soon began to overtake companies of them, carrying their fish 
to the city on donkeys. One stout, strapping fellow, with 
flesh as hard and yellow as a sturgeon's, was seated sideways 
on a very small donkey, between two immense panniers of fish. 
As he trotted before us, shouting, and slapping the flanks of 
the sturdy little beast, Jose and I began to laugh, whereupon 
the fellow broke out into the following monologue, addressed 
to the donkey : '' Who laughs at this burrico ? Who says he's 
not fine gold from head to foot ? What is it that he can't do i 
If there was a mountain ever so high, he would gallop over it. 
If there was a river ever so deep, he would swim through it. 
If he could but speak, I might send him to market alone with 
the fish, and not a ckavo of the money would he spend on the 
way home. Who says he can't go as far as that limping- 
horse ? Arrrre, burrico ! punate — ar-r-r-r-r-e-e l n 

We reached Malaga, at last, our horses sorely fagged. At 
the Eonda de la Alameda, a new and very elegant hotel, I 
found a bath and a good dinner, both welcome things to a tired 
traveller. The winter of Malaga is like spring in other lands, 
and on that account it is much visited by invalids, especially 
English. It is a lively commercial town of about 80,000 
inhabitants, and, if the present scheme of railroad communica- 
tion with Madrid is carried out, must continue to increase m 
size and importance. A number of manufacturing establishments 
iiave lately been started, and in this department it bids fair to 
rival Barcelona. The harbor is small, but good, and the 



LEAVING MALAGA. 



435 



country around rich in all the productions of temperate and 
even tropical climates. The city contains little to interest the 
tourist. I visited the Cathedral, an immense unfinished mass, 
without a particle of architectural taste outwardly, though the 
interior has a fine effect from its large dimensions. 

At noon to-day, we were again in the saddle, and took the 
road to the Baths of Caratraca. The tall factory chimneys of 
Malaga, vomiting forth streams of black smoke, marred the 
serenity of the sky ; but the distant view of the city is very 
fine. The broad Vega, watered by the Guadaljorce, is rich and 
well cultivated, and now rejoices in the verdure of spring. 
The meadows are clothed with fresh grass, butter-cups and 
daisies are in blossom, and larks sing in the olive-trees. Now 
and then, we passed a casa del campo, with its front half buried 
in orange-trees, over which towered two or three sentinel 
palms. After two leagues of this delightful travel, the coun- 
try became more hilly, and the groups of mountains which 
inclosed us assumed the most picturesque and enchanting 
forms. The soft haze in which the distant peaks were bathed, 
toe lovely violet shadows filling up their chasms and gorges, 
and the fresh meadows, vineyards, and olive groves below, 
made the landscape one of the most beautiful I have seen in 
Spain. 

As we were trotting along through the palmetto thickets, 
Jose asked me if I should not like to hear an Andalusian story. 
" Nothing would please me better," I replied. "Ride close 
beside me, then," said he, " that you may understand every 
word of it." I complied, and he gave me the following, just 
as I repeat it: " There was once a very rich man, who had 
thousands of cattle in the Sierra Nevada, and hundreds of 



435 



TFE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



nouses in the city. Well : this man put a plate, with his name 
on it, on the door of the great house in which he lived, and 
the name was this : Don Pedro, without Fear and without 
Care. Xow, when the King was making his paseo : he hap- 
pened to ride by this house in his carriage, and saw the plate 
on the door. ' Read me the name on that plate !' said he to 
his officer. Then the officer read the name : Don Pedro, with- 
out Fear and without Care. 'I will see whether Don Pedro 
is without Fear and without Care/ said the King. The next 
day came a messenger to the house, and, when he saw Don 
Pedro, said he to him ; 1 Don Pedro, without Fear and without 
Care, the King wants you ! 7 ' What does the King want with 
me V said Don Pedro. ' He sends you four questions which 
you must answer within four days, or he will have you shot ; 
and the questions are : — How can the Sierra Nevada be cleared 
of snow ? How can the sea be made smaller ? How many 
arrobas does the moon weigh ? And : How many leagues 
from here to the Land of Heavenly Glory V Then Don Pedro 
without Fear and without Care began to sweat from fright, 
and knew not what he should do. He called some of his arrie- 
ros and loaded twenty mules with money, and went up into the 
Sierra Nevada, where his herdsmen tended his flocks : for, as 
I said, he had many thousand cattle. 'God keep you, my 
master ! 3 said the chief herdsman, who was young, and bum 
mozo, and had as good a head as ever was set on two shoulders, 
x AvAa x h ombre P said Don Pedro, 'lama dead man f and so he 
told the herdsman all that the King had said. ' Oh, is that 
all V said the knowing mozo. 1 1 can get you out of the 
scrape. Let me go and answer the questions in your name, my 
master V ' Ah, you fool ! what can you do V said Don Pedro 



DON PEDRO WITHOUT FEAR AND WITHOUT CARE. 431 

without Fear and without Care, throwing himself upon the 
earth, and ready to die. 

"But, nevertheless, the herdsman dressed himself up as a 
taballero, went clown to the city, and, on the fourth day, pre- 
sented himself at the King's palace. ' What do you want V 
said the officers. 1 1 am Don Pedro without Fear and without 
Care, come to answer the questions which the King sent to me.' 
' Weil/ said the King, when he was brought before him, 1 let 
me hear your answers, or I will have you shot this day/ 
' Your Majesty/ said the herdsman, 1 1 think I can do it. If 
you were to set a million of children to playing among the 
snow of the Sierra Nevada, they would soon clear it all away ; 
and if you were to dig a ditch as wide and as deep as all 
Spain, you would make the sea that much smaller.' 1 But/ 
said the King, ' that makes only two questions ; there are two 
more yet.' ' I think I can answer those, also/ said the herds- 
man : 1 the moon contains four quarters, and therefore weighs 
only one arroba ; and as for the last question, it is not even a 
single league to the Land of Heavenly Glory — for, if your 
Majesty were to die after breakfast, you would get there before 
you had an appetite for dinner.' ' Well done !' said the King ; 
and he then made him Count, and Marquez, and I don't know 
how many other titles. In the meantime, Don Pedro without 
Fear and without Care had died of his fright ; and, as he left 
no family, the herdsman took possession of all his estates, and, 
until the day of his death, was called Don Pedro without Fear 
and without Care." 

I write, sitting by the grated window of this lonely inn, 
looking out on the meadows of the Guadaljorce. The chain 
of mountains which rises to the west of Malaga is purpled by 



438 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



the light of the setting sun, and the houses and Castle of Car- 
tarna hang on its side, in full view. Further to the right, I see 
the smoke of Monda, where one of the greatest battles of anti- 
quity was fought — that which overthrew the sons of Pompey, 
and gave the Roman Empire to Caesar. The mozo of the 
venta is busy, preparing my kid and rice, and Jose is at his 
elbow, gently suggesting ingredients which may give the dish 
a richer flavor. The landscape is softened by the hush of 
coming evening ; a few birds are still twittering among the 
bushes, and the half-moon grows whiter and clearer in mid 
heaven. The people about me are humble, but appear honest 
and peaceful, and nothing indicates that I am in the wild Ser- 
rania de Ronda, the country of robbers, contrabandistas, and 
assassins. 



ORANGE VALLEYS. 



439 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE MOUNTAINS OF RONDA. 

Orange Valleys — Climbing the Mountains — Jose's Hospitality — El Burgo — The Crate of 
the Wind — The Cliff and Cascades of Ronda — The Mountain Region — Traces of the 
Moors — Haunts of Robbers — A Stormy Ride — The Inn at Gaucin — Bad News— A 
Boyish Auxiliary — Descent from the Mountains — The Ford of the Guadiaro — Our 
Fears Relieved — The Cork Woods — Ride from San Roque to Gibraltar — Parting with 
Jose' — Travelling in Spain — Conclusion. 

Gibraltar, Thursday^ November 25, 1852. 

I passed an uncomfortable night at the Venta de Yillalon, 
lying upon a bag stuffed with equal quantities of wool and 
fleas. Starting before dawn, we followed a path which led 
into the mountains, where herdsmen and boys were taking out 
their sheep and goats to pasture 5 then it descended into the 
valley of a stream, bordered with rich bottom-lands. I never 
saw the orange in a more flourishing state. We passed several 
orchards of trees thirty feet high, and every bough and twig 
so completely laden with fruit, that the foliage was hardly to 
be seen. 

At the Yenta del Yicario, we found a number of soldiers 
just setting out for Ronda. They appeared to be escorting a 
convoy of goods, for there were twenty or thirty laden mules 
gathered at the door. We now ascended a most difficult and 
stony path, winding through bleak wastes of gray rock, till we 



4^ THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

reached a lofty pass in the mountain range. The wind swept 
through the narrow gateway with a force that almost unhorsea 
us. From the other side, a sublime but most desolate land- 
scape opened to my view. Opposite, at ten miles' distance, 
rose a lofty ridge of naked rock, overhung with clouds. The 
country between was a chaotic jumble of stony hills, separated 
by deep chasms, with just a green patch here and there, U 
show that it was not entirely forsaken by man. Nevertheless 
as we descended into it, we found valleys with vineyards and 
olive groves, which were invisible from above. As we were both 
getting hungry, Jose stopped at a ventorillo and ordered two 
cups of wine, for which he insisted on paying. " If I had as 
many horses as my master, Xapoleon," said he, "I would 
regale the Senors whenever I travelled with them. I would 
have puros, and sweetmeats, with plenty of Malaga or Valde- 
penas in the bota, and they should never complain of their 
fare/ 7 Part of our road was studded with gray cork-trees, at 
a distance hardly to be distinguished from olives, and Jose dis- 
mounted to gather the mast, which was as sweet and palatable 
as chestnuts, with very little of the bitter quercine flavor. At 
eleven o'clock, we reached El Burgo, so called, probably, from 
its ancient Moorish fortress. It is a poor, starved village, 
built on a barren hill, over a stream which is still spanned 
by a lofty Moorish bridge of a single arch. 

The remaining three leagues to Honda were exceedingly 
rough and difficult. Climbing a barren ascent of nearly a 
league in length, we reached the Puerto del Viento, or Gate of 
the Wind, through which drove such a current that we were 
obliged to dismount ; and even then it required all my strength 
to move against it. The peaks around far and near, faced 



THE CHASM OF RONDA. 



441 



with precipitous cliffs, wore the most savage and forbidding 
aspect : in fact, this region is almost a counterpart of the 
wilderness lying between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. Yery 
soon, we touched the skirt of a cloud, and were enveloped in 
masses of chill, whirling vapor, through which we travelled for 
three or four miles to a similar gate on the western side of the 
chain. Descending again, we emerged into a clearer atmo- 
sphere, and saw below us a wide extent of mountain country, 
but of a more fertile and cheerful character. Olive orchards 
and wheat-fields now appeared ; and, at four o'clock, we rode 
into the streets of Ronda. 

No town can surpass this in the grandeur and picturesque- 
ness of its position. It is built on the edge of a broad shelf 
of the mountains, which falls away in a sheer precipice of from 
six to eight hundred feet in height, and, from the windows of 
many of the houses you can look down the dizzy abyss. This 
shelf, again, is divided in the centre by a tremendous chasm, 
three hundred feet wide, and from four to six hundred feet in 
depth, in the bed of which roars the Guadalvin, boiling in foam- 
ing whirlpools or leaping in sparkling cascades, till it reaches the 
valley below. The town lies on both sides of the chasm, which 
is spanned by a stone bridge of a single arch, with abutments 
nearly four hundred feet in height. The view of this wonder- 
ful cleft, either from above or below, is one of the finest of its 
kind in the world. Ronda is as far superior to Tivoli, as Tivoli 
is to a Dutch village, on the dead levels of Holland. The 
panorama which it commands is on the grandest scale. The 
valley below is a garden of fruit and vines ; bold yet cultivated 
hills succeed, and in the distance rise the lofty summits of 
another chain of the Serrania de Ronda. Were these sublime 

19* 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



cliffs, these charming cascades of the Guadalvin, and this daring 
bridge, in Italy instead of in Spain, they would be sketched 
and painted every day in the year ; but I have yet to know 
where a good picture of Honda may be found. 

In the bottom of the chasm are a number of corn-mills as 
old as the time of the Moors. The water, gushing out from 
the arches of one, drives the wheel of that below, so that a 
single race supplies them all. I descended by a very steep zig- 
zag path nearly to the bottom. On a little point or promon- 
tory overhanging the black depths, there is a Moorish gateway 
still standing. The sunset threw a lovely glow over the brown 
cliffs and the airy town above ; but they were far grander when 
the cascades glittered in the moonlight, and the gulf out of 
which they leap was lost in profound shadow. The window 
of my becl-room hung over the chasm. 

Honda was wrapped in fog, when Jose awoke me on the 
morning of the 2 2d. As we had but about twenty-four miles to 
ride that day, we did not leave until sunrise. We rode across 
the bridge, through the old town and clown the hill, passing 
the triple lines of the Moorish walls by the original gateways. 
The road, stony and rugged beyond measure, now took to the 
mountains. From the opposite height, there was a fine view 
of the town, perched like an eagle's nest on the verge of its 
tremendous cliffs ; but a curtain of rain soon fell before it, and 
the dense dark clouds settled around us, and filled up the 
gorges on either hand. Hour after hour, we toiled along the 
slippery paths, scaling the high ridges by rocky ladders, np 
which our horses climbed with the greatest difficulty. The 
scenery, whenever I could obtain a misty glimpse of it, was 
sublime. Lofty mountain ridges rose on either hand • bleak, 



TRAVELLING IN A STORM. 



448 



jagged summits of naked rock pierced the clouds, and the deep 
chasms which separated them sank far below us, dark and 
indistinct through the rain. Sometimes I caught sight of a 
little hamlet, hanging on some almost inaccessible ledge, the 
home of the lawless, semi-Moorish mountaineers who inhabit 
this wild region. The faces of those we met exhibited marked 
traces of their Moslem ancestry, especially in the almond- 
shaped eye and the dusky olive complexion. Their dialect 
retains many Oriental forms of expression, and I was not a 
little surprised at rinding the Arabic " eiwa" (yes) in general 
use, instead of the Spanish "si." 

About eleven o'clock, we reached the rude village of Ata- 
jate, where we procured a very good breakfast of kid, eggs, 
and white Ronda wine. The wind and rain increased, but I 
had no time to lose, as every hour swelled the mountain floods 
and made the journey more difficult. This district is in the 
worst repute of any in Spain ; it is a very nest of robbers and 
contrabandistas. At the venta in Atajate, they urged us to 
take a guard, but my valiant J ose declared that he had never 
taken one, and yet was never robbed ; so I trusted to his good 
luck. The weather, however, was our best protection. In 
Such a driving rain, we could bid defiance to the flint locks of 
their escopettes, if, indeed, any could be found, so fond of their 
trade, as to ply it in a storm 

" Wherein the cub-drawn bear would crouch, 
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
Keep their furs dry. 77 

Nevertheless, I noticed that each of the few convoys of laden 
mules which we met, had one or more of the guardia civil 



444: TEE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 

accompanying it. Besides these, the only persons abroad were 
some wild-looking individuals, armed to the teeth, and muffled 
in long cloaks, towards whom, as they passed, Jose would give 
his head a slight toss, and whisper to me: "more contraban- 

distas." 

TTe were soon in a condition to defy the weather. The rain 
beat furiously in our faces, especially when threading the 
wind-blown passes between the higher peaks. I raised my 
umbrella as a defence, but the first blast snapped it in twain. 
The mountain-sides were veined with rills, roaring downward 
into the hollows, and smaller rills soon began to trickle down 
my own sides. During the last part of our way, the path was 
notched along precipitous steeps, where the storm was so thick 
that we could see nothing either above or below. It was like 
riding along the outer edge of the world. When once you are 
thoroughly wefc, it is a great satisfaction to know that you can 
be no wetter ; and so Jose and I went forward in the best 
possible humor, finding so much diversion in our plight that 
the dreary leagues were considerably shortened. 

At the venta of G-aucin, where we stopped, the people 
received us kindly. The house consisted of one room — stable, 
kitchen, and dining-room all in one. There was a small apart- 
ment in a windy loft, where a bed (much too short) was pre- 
pared for me. A fire of dry heather was made in the wide 
fire-place, and the ruddy flames, with a change of clothing and 
a draught of the amber vintage of Estepona, soon thawed out 
the chill of the journey. But I received news which caused 
me a great deal of anxiety. The River Gruadiaro was so high 
that nobody could cross, and twD forlorn muleteers had been 
waiting eight days at the inn ; foj the waters to subside. Aug- 



A BOYISH AUXILIARY. 



mented by the rain which had fallen, and which seemed to 
increase as night came on, how could I hope to cross it on the 
morrow ? In two days, the India steamer would be at Gibral- 
tar ; my passage was already taken, and I must be there. The 
matter was discussed for some time ; it was pronounced impos- 
sible to travel by the usual road, but the landlord knew a path 
among the hills which led to a ferry on the Guadiaro, where 
there was a boat, and from thence we could make our way to 
San Koque, which is in sight of Gibraltar. He demanded 
rather a large fee for accompanying me, but there was nothing 
else to be done. Jose and I sat down in great tribulation to 
our accustomed olla, but neither of us could do justice to it, 
and the greater part gladdened the landlord's two boys — beau- 
tiful little imps, with faces like Murillo's cherubs. 

Nevertheless, I passed rather a merry evening, chatting with 
some of the villagers over a brazier of coals ; and one of the 
aforesaid boys, who, although only eight years old, already 
performed the duties of mozo, lighted me to my loft. When 
he had put down the lamp, he tried the door, and asked me : 
"Have you the key?" " No," said I, "I don't want one ; I 
am not afraid." " But," he rejoined, "perhaps you may get 
afraid in the night ; and if you do, strike on this part of the 
wall (suiting the action to the word) — I sleep on that side." 
I willingly promised to call him to my aid, if I should get 
alarmed. I slept but little, for the wind was howling around 
the tiles over my head, and I was busy with plans for con- 
structing rafts and swimming currents with a rope around my 
waist. Finally, I found a little oblivion, but it seemed that I 
had scarcely closed my eyes, when Jose pushed open the door. 
"Thanks be to God, senor !" said he, "it begins to dawn> 



446 



THE LANDS OF THE S AS AC EX. 



and the sky is clear : we shall certainly get to Gibraltar 
to-day." 

The landlord was ready, ~o we took some bread and a bas- 
ket of olives, and set ont at once. Leaving Gaucin, we com- 
menced descending the mountain staircase by which the 
Serrania of Honda is scale!, on the side towards Gibraltar. 
''The road/'- says Mr. Ford, " seems made by the Evil One in 
a hanging garden of Eden." After four miles of frightfully 
rugged descent, we reached an orange grove on the banks of 
the Xenar, and then took a wild path leading along the hills 
on the right of the stream. We overtook a few muleteers, 
who were tempted out by the fine weather, and before long the 
correo, or mail-rider from Honda to San Hoque, joined us. 
After eight miles more of toilsome travel we reached the val- 
ley of the Guadiaro. The river was not more than twenty 
yards wide, flowing with a deep, strong current, between high 
banks. Two ropes were stretched across, and a large, clumsy 
boat was moored to the shore. TVe called to the ferrymen, 
but they hesitated, saying that nobody had yet been able to 
cross. However, we all got in, with our horses, and two of 
the men, with much reluctance, drew us over. The current 
was very powerful, although the river had fallen a little 
during the night, but we reached the opposite bank without 
accident. 

TTe had still another river, the Guargante, to pass, but 
we were cheered by some peasants whom we met, with the 
news that the ferry-boat had resumed operations. After this 
current lay behind us, and there was now nothing but firm 
land all the way to Gibraltar, Jose declared with much 
earnestness that he was quite as glad, for my sake, as if some- 



THE CORK-WOODS. 



447 



body had given him a million of dollars. Oar horses, too, 
seemed to feel that something had been achieved, and showed 
snch a fresh spirit that w r e loosened the reins and let them gal- 
lop to their hearts' content ove? the green meadows. The 
mountains were now behind us, and the Moorish castle of 
Gaucin crested a peak, blue with the distance. Over hills 
covered with broom and heather in blossom, and through hol- 
lows grown with oleander, arbutus and the mastic shrub, we 
rode to the cork-wood forests of San Roque, the sporting- 
ground of Gibraltar officers. The barking of dogs, the crack- 
ing of whips, and now and then a distant halloo, announced 
that a hunt was in progress, and soon we came upon a company 
of thirty or forty horsemen, in caps, white gloves and top-boots, 
scattered along the crest of a hill. I had no desire to stop . 
and witness the sport, for the Mediterranean now lay before 
me, and the huge gray mass of "The Rock" loomed in the 
distance. 

At San Roque, which occupies the summit of a conical hill, 
about half-way between Gibraltar and Algeciras, the landlord 
left us, and immediately started on his return. Having now 
exchanged the rugged bridle-paths of Ronda for a smooth 
carriage-road, J ose and I dashed on at full gallop, to the end 
of our journey. We were both bespattered with mud 
from head to foot, and our jackets and sombreros had lost 
something of their spruce air. We met a great many ruddy 
cleanly-shaven Englishmen, who uined up on one side to let us 
pass, with a look of wonder at our Andalusian impudence 
Nothing diverted Jose more than to see one of these English 
men rising in his stirrups, as he went by on a trot. " Look, 
look, Senor !" he exclaimed ; " did you ever see the like V % 



448 



THE LANDS OF THE SAEACEX. 



and then broke into a fresh explosion of laughter. Passing 
the Spanish Lines, which stretch across the neck of the sandy 
little peninsula, connecting Gibraltar with the main land, we 
rode under the terrible batteries which snarl at Spain from 
this side of the Rock. Row after row of enormous guns 
bristle the walls, or look out from the galleries hewn in the sides 
of inaccessible cliffs - An artificial moat is cut along the base of 
the Rock, and a simple bridge-road leads into the fortress and 
town. After giving up my passport I was allowed to enter, 
Jose having already obtained a permit from the Spanish authori- 
ties. 

I clattered up the long street of the town to the Club 
House, where I found a company of English friends. In the 
evening, Jose made his appearance, to settle our accounts ard 
take his leave of me. "While scrambling down the rocky stair- 
way of Gaucin, Jose had said to me : " Look you, Senor, I 
am very fond of English beer, and if I get you to Gibraltar 
to-day you must give me a glass of it." When, therefore, he 
came in the evening, his eyes sparkled at the sight of a bottle 
of Alsop's Ale, and a handful of good Gibraltar cigars. 
"Ah, Senor/ 7 said he, after our books were squared, and he 
had pocketed his gratification, u I am sorry we are going to 
part ; for we are good friends, are we not, Senor VI " Yes, 
Jose," said I : " if I ever come to Granada again, I shall take 
no other guide than Jose Garcia ; and I will have you for a 
longer journey than this. "We shall go over all Spain together, 
m amigo!" "May God grant it !" responded Jose, crossing 
himself ; " and now, Senor, I must go. I shall travel back to 
Granada, may triste, Senor, nuy triste." The faithful fellows 
eyes were full of tears, and, as he lifted my hand twice to Ma 



TRAVELLING IN SPAIN. 



lips, some warm drops fell upon it God bless his honest heart, 
wherever he goes ! 

And now a word as to travelling in Spain, which is not 
attended with half the difficulties and annoyances I had been 
led to expect. My experience, of course, is limited to the 
provinces of Andalusia, but mj route included some of the 
roughest roads and most dangerous robber-districts in the 
Peninsula. The people with whom I came in contact were 
invariably friendly and obliging, and I was dealt with much 
more honestly than I should hav 3 been in Italy. With every 
disposition to serve you, there is nothing like servility among 
the Spaniards. The native dignity which characterizes theii 
demeanor prepossesses me very wrongly in their favor. There 
is but one dialect of courtesy, and the muleteers and common 
peasants address each other with the same grave respect as the 
Dons and Grandees. My Menu Jose was a model of good- 
breeding. 

I had little trouble either with passport-officers or custom- 
houses. My passport, in fact, was never once demanded, 
although I took the precaution to have it vised in all the large 
cities. In Seville and Malaga, it was signed by the American 
Consuls, without the usual fee 01 two dollars — almost the only 
instances which have come under my observation. The regula- 
tions of the American Consular System, which gives the Con- 
suls no salary, but permits them, instead, to get their pay out 
of travellers, is a disgrace to oin government. It amounts, in 
effect, to a direct tax on travel, and falls heavily on the hun- 
dreds of young men of limited means, who annually visit 
Europe for the purpose of completing their education. Every 
American citizen who travels in Italy pays a passport tax of 



450 



THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 



ten dollars. In all the ports of the Mediterranean, there is an 
American Vice-Consul, who does not even get the postage paid 
on his dispatches, and to whom the advent of a traveller is of 
course a welcome sight. Misled by a false notion of economy, our 
government is fast becoming proverbial for its meanness. If 
those of our own citizens who represent us abroad only worked 
as they are paid, and if the foreigners who act as Vice-Consuls 
without pay did not derive some petty trading advantages 
from their position, we should be almost without protection. 



With my departure from Spain closes the record of my 
journey in the Lands of the Saracen ; for, although I after- 
wards beheld more perfect types of Saracenic Art on the banks 
of the Jumna and the Ganges, they grew up under the great 
Empire of the descendants of Tamerlane, and were the crea- 
tions of artists foreign to the soil. It would, no doubt, be 
interesting to contrast the remains of Oriental civilization and 
refinement, as they still exist at the extreme eastern and 
western limits of the Moslem sway, and to show how that Art, 
which had its birth in the capitals of the Caliphs — Damascus 
and Baghdad— attained its most perfect development in Spain 
and India : but my visit to the latter country connects itself 
naturally with my voyage to China, Loo-Choo, and Japan, 
forming a separate and distim t field of travel. 

On the 21th of November, the Overland Mail Steamer 
arrived at Gibraltar, and I embarked in her for Alexandria, 
entering upon another year of even more varied, strange, ami 
adventurous experiences, than that which had closed. I am 



CONCLUSION. 



451 



almost afraid to ask those patient readers, who have accompa- 
nied me thus far, to travel with me through another volume 5 
but next to the pleasure of seeing the world, comes the plea- 
sure cf telling of it, and I must needs finish my story, 



I 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




010 174 866 2 



